


Glimpses

by starbrightnights



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Humour, Mild Sexual Content, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-19
Updated: 2014-07-03
Packaged: 2018-02-05 09:18:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1813222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starbrightnights/pseuds/starbrightnights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look into Jemma and Fitz's lives on different days during Fitz's coma and subsequent recovery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this story isn't too confusing. I've written the days out of order on purpose, so it's more like an emotional roller coaster instead of just going from sad to happy; the only ones I have fixed are day 130 (which is where we start, but where the story ends), and day 1(the end, but the start). If things don't make sense, or you wonder where someone suddenly came from, don't worry, because it will all be explained in future segments/chapters. I'm just dipping in and out, so I won't be writing all 130 days, and I'm British, so if there's anything Fitz and Simmons say that you don't understand, just give me a shout :)  
> I haven't written fic for a very long time, so read at your own peril...

**DAY 130**

She's so proud of him. A little over four months ago he was still in a coma fighting for his life, and while he still struggles on occasion, he's achieved so much. Today is his twenty-eighth birthday, a day that she wasn't even sure he would see not that long ago, and she's planned an extra-special day for him, with plenty of scheduled rest breaks, and a small party in the evening - he doesn't know about any of it. Jemma looks at him and smiles. They're still in bed - a well-deserved lie-in - and she's on her side, studying him, his messy curls, how his eyelashes brush his skin (and honestly, how unfair is it that his eyelashes are that long?), the curve of his jaw, the morning stubble that roughens his usually baby-soft skin, his cheekbones, his smile... Wait.

"Stop watching me sleep, you weirdo."

Jemma laughs, and Fitz opens his eyes and grins at her. "Happy birthday, old man."

He closes his eyes and grabs her around the waist, pulling her too him. "Less of the old, thank you. We're the same age."

"Almost," she says, cuddling against him and pressing a kiss to his cheek. "But for a couple more months I'm going to enjoy the fact that I can still tell people I'm twenty-seven."

Fitz pouts, seemingly ignoring her. "Is that all I get?"

She laughs again and presses her mouth to his. He's warm and sleepy and she thinks for a moment that they could just stay like this all day, but she knows he'll love what she's got planned - tacos for lunch and then the zoo. It's a bit of a drive away from the Playground, but it'll be entirely worth it. She just hopes he'll like the party, too. "Mmm, that's better," he murmurs against her. Then he opens his eyes again, grins again, cheekily this time. "So," he bumps his nose against hers, "as it's my birthday..." he winks at her, and she knows exactly what he's after, not that she minds, not when he starts kissing her like _that_.

\----

"SURPRISE!" Fitz jumps, startled by the sudden noise, but when Jemma looks at him she sees a face that's completely overwhelmed, an open-mouthed smile and shining eyes, and it's then that she knows that this was definitely worth it. It's not been easy keeping it a secret from him, and it has _especially_ not been easy for Skye. When it comes to being an agent, the hacker is a pro at secret-keeping - but planning Fitz's birthday party has been something else entirely. Whenever they've been in the same room she's looked at him with barely contained glee, and Jemma's lost count of the amount of times she's thrown glares her way to get her to calm down.

"Happy birthday!" Skye throws her arms around him and hugs him tight.

"So this is why you've been bounding around me like a puppy for the last few weeks," Fitz grins, hugging her back.

Skye looks affronted. "I have not."

"Yes you have," Coulson chimes in, reaching out to shake Fitz's hand. Then he changes his mind and pulls him into a hug instead. "Happy birthday, Fitz."

"Thank you, sir," Fitz says, more than a little touched, and then he's laughing as Coulson pulls back and addresses the entire group.

"No one saw that."

"Aww, AC!"

Coulson stares pointedly at Skye. "It's DC, now."

"Hmm, no, that doesn't sound right. AC sounds way cooler."

May and Trip get their turns to give Fitz their best wishes, and then the music is turned on, drinks are poured, and soon everyone is chatting and laughing and playing silly games and eating birthday cake, and it's just how Jemma wanted it, how she knew Fitz would want it. Just their little team, on the Bus, away from the now manic activity of the Playground. No, not their little team - their _family_.

When Jemma had broached the subject of throwing Fitz a surprise party for his birthday a few weeks before, everyone had instantly been on board. After everything, he deserved it. Skye and Trip had spent the afternoon decorating the lounge area of the plane and sorting out the food and drink, and when she and Fitz had returned from their afternoon out, he'd had just enough time to Skype his mother before Coulson had rounded them all up for a "mission".

"Jem?" Jemma looks up to see shining blue eyes dancing in front of her. "Thank you for today, and for all this." Fitz pulls her into his arms and gives her a kiss. They're off-duty, so she takes advantage of this by winding her arms around his neck.

"You deserve it," she smiles. "After everything..."

"But even so, you didn't have to. I'd have been just as happy doing our usual dinner/movie/bar routine."

"I know," she lifts a hand to smooth his curls, "but everyone wanted to do this for you, it wasn't just me - I just came up with the idea." Her eyes flicker closed briefly as Fitz presses a kiss to her forehead.

"Well, it's one of your best."

"Huh. I don't know whether to be insulted or pleased by that," she teases. He grins at her.

"Hey, look what I've got!" They turn to see Skye holding up a box with 'Twister' written on the front.

"Oh, brilliant!" Fitz exclaims, walking towards her. "It's been ages since I've played this. In fact, I think it was back at the Academy, that party that started in one dorm and spread to three others, remember, Jem?" He turns to her with a mischievous smile. "You were so drunk." He turns back to the others. "You've never seen Simmons drunk, have you? She's hilarious. This one time-" but he's cut off when Jemma slaps a hand over his mouth.

"Don't you dare."

"It's all right, Fitz, you can tell us later," Trip grins.

"No, he can't," Jemma says, trying to sound stern, but she starts laughing so doesn't quite manage it. Still, she'd rather they didn't know about that little incident.

Twister is set up, and Coulson grabs the spinner before May gets to it and absolutely refuses to hand it over, and Skye teases him over it, promising it'll all stay between their little group if he plays, but he won't budge.

"All right then, let's get this over with," May says, stretching her arms.

Jemma pulls Fitz to one side for a moment, but she should have known he'd know what she was going to say just by the look on her face.

"I'll be fine," he says, smiling softly at her. "I promise I'll stop if I'm not".

"All right," she says, because it's his birthday and she doesn't want to be an overprotective, nagging girlfriend. She can't help that she worries, but he's certainly stronger than he was a few months ago.

With five of them playing, the game doesn't actually last very long. They all get tangled together quite quickly, and surprisingly it's Trip who falls on his backside first. He tries to blame May, but she's not having any of it.

"You lack focus, deal with it."

"Oh, oh, no, them be fighting words. How about I train with you tomorrow morning, and then we'll see who lacks focus."

"Be my guest."

Skye looks up at him, blowing her hair out of her eyes. "It's been nice knowing you, Trip."

"She's right," Coulson adds. "You're toast." He spins the wheel again. "Jemma, right hand red."

"Oh, God, no..." Jemma twists herself almost unnaturally, but, by some miracle, just manages to reach across. "Yes!"

"Well, we'll see about that," Trip says confidently, pushing his beer to one side and grabbing a bottle of water. He gives May a toothy grin. "Prep starts now."

Soon, there's only Jemma and May left, and she's more than a little surprised that she's lasted this long. Fitz had been second to leave the game, although he'd put in a mighty effort and hadn't seemed too disappointed when he'd had to sit out. Skye had unbalanced herself when trying to reach for a blue circle too far away from her, and Jemma knew she would be next - there was no way she was going to beat May, who was currently in a crab position but with one leg crossed over the other. It looks hugely uncomfortable, but the agent herself seems quite serene. It's grossly unfair. And she's right, because her next move sends her toppling forward, and she yelps and then laughs as she lands in a sprawl across the mat.

"Finally!" May exclaims, effortlessly untangling herself and jumping up. "Well done, May - you get an extra piece of cake," Skye says. "Give it to the birthday boy - I need a drink."

\----

Fitz is exhausted. He's trying not to let it show, but he's failing miserably - he's practically falling asleep on her as they walk back to his room. She holds him up as best she can.

"God, you're a lump," she smiles, glancing at him affectionately.

"Rude," Fitz mumbles, his eyes half-closed. "Are you staying again?"

"I probably shouldn't, but as it's your birthday I'm sure no one will mind."

"Sleep time's off-duty anyway..."

"I know, but it's not just our team here, now - the place is filling up."

"'S all right, they won'... care..." Jemma rubs his arm. "Come on, don't fall asleep on me yet, we're nearly there."

"'K..."

She manages to get Fitz back to his room and onto his bed, where he promptly passes out. She chuckles a little and shakes her head fondly at him. She takes off his shoes and jeans without causing even a stir from him, but decides that his shirt is too much effort and leaves it on him. She pulls the covers over him, then gets herself ready for bed before sliding in beside him. She's almost asleep when a sleepy, barely coherent voice rouses her.

"Jem... Love you..."

She doesn't think she'll ever get tired of hearing that. She reaches out in the dark for Fitz's hand and brings it to her lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. "I love you, too."

 

* * *

 

**DAY 19**

Jemma feels ridiculous. Not because she's holding up flash cards more suited to a three-year-old, but because the look on Fitz's face is so heartbreaking - he's trying so hard to name what is on the card, trying to get his brain to communicate with his mouth, his tongue, his larynx, and the guilt washing over her as she watches him struggle is making it so hard not to cry. But she has to do it. He has to keep trying. The more he tries, the more of a chance he has.

She turns the cards around and shuffles through them for a moment, then smiles when she finds what she's looking for: the monkey. She turns the card around, eyes boring into his knowingly as she does. She sees his lips twitch a little in amusement, but she also knows that he's exhausted - this will be the last one for today, and she knows he can do it. She watches as he moves his mouth to form the word, his lips pressed together to form the first sound. His expression is determined.

"Mmm-"

Jemma smiles encouragingly, trying to communicate that he's doing well, that he's so close, that's she so proud...

"M-on..."

Her smile grows bigger, and she doesn't want to put him off with how hopeful she knows she looks, but she can't help it.

"...Key. Mon-key."

Elated, Jemma tosses the cards to one side and grabs his hands, pressing kisses them. "Yes! And the rest will follow now, you'll see. I promise."

Once the cards are packed away, once she's made sure he's settled and thinks he's asleep, she makes her way to the door, whispering to him to have sweet dreams and that she'll be back tomorrow. She's almost through it when she hears his voice again.

"...Jem... Th-ank... You..."

She smiles at him. "You never have to thank me, Fitz," she says, trying to keep her voice steady. Once she is out the door, Jemma bursts into tears.

* * *

 

**DAY 8**

"Simmons, go take some time for yourself. You need a rest".

"I'm fine, Sir, honestly."

"It's not a request, it's an order," Coulson says, softly, his eyes kind. "Fitz will be fine, and if anything happens, I'll call you."

Jemma nods in defeat. "There are a few things I need to get, and I suppose a change of scenery would be nice." She's trying to sound brave - she knows Coulson is only concerned, but she really doesn't want to be too far from Fitz. A few hours might be the best she can manage.

She takes one of the cars and drives to the nearest town. The weather is pleasant and bright, too cheerful for her current mood, which saddens her further, because she's a naturally cheerful person - unless her best friend is in a coma. Jemma parks up and scans the area. Her eyes land on a hair salon, and she wonders if they might be able to fit her in. Isn't that what people say to do when you're feeling low, change your hair? She supposes it could do with a trim, anyway, so she climbs out of the car and heads over. As luck would have it, considering how busy it seems, they can fit her in in an hour, so she decides to waste time by having a look around the shops. A toy store catches her eye, and an idea flashes through her head. She makes her way inside, winding her way through over-excited groups of children until she finds the section she's looking for. She scans the shelves of soft toys and then her eyes land on what she's looking for and she smiles, reaching out a grab a cute, ginger, cuddly monkey. "Yes, you're perfect," she whispers, before making her way over to the counter to pay. She stops by a few other places, stocking up on what she needs, then makes her way back to the salon. An hour later, she steps back out feeling a little lighter. A trim had turned into a few good inches and some shorter layers, and she feels refreshed, but she's itching to get back, so she decides that'll do for today and heads back to the base.

A little while later, she's tucking the toy monkey in beside Fitz and smiling down at him. His mother is asleep in the chair next to the bed, so she tucks herself up on the sofa on the other side of the room and watches the gentle rise and fall of Fitz's chest, the steady beeping of machines reminding her that he's alive, and there's hope.

 

* * *

 

**DAY 51**

"Oh, my God, Fitz, that's amazing! Well done." As soon as she's said it, Simmons scrunches her face up. "It's really hard to say that without sounding patronising, isn't it?"

Fitz gives her a tired smile, his breathing heavy as if he's just run a marathon. He's just managed to slowly walk the length of the walking bars by only holding onto one of them, his left arm still not healed enough to be taken out of plaster, and at first, his doctor had tried very hard to talk him out of it. Jemma takes hold of his arm and helps him to sit.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes," he replies, still trying to catch his breath. "It helps to see this as a blip. In years to come, I'll look back on this and realise just how small a part of my life it was. I mean, it's a huge thing to have happened, and it could have been much, much worse, but if it's just a year or so out of my whole life, that's not so bad, is it?"

"That's the spirit." She looks at his arm. "Another couple of weeks, and that can come off. No more me helping to stick things down it to scratch an itch."

Fitz chuckles and glances at his well-decorated cast. It's his second one. The first one ended up in the bin, which Skye had been disappointed by after spending time doodling on it and writing funny phrases. He'd pulled a disgusted face at her, pointing out that it was unhygienic to keep it, telling her that this one would be going to same way. He'd let her photograph it instead. It was full of messages and good wishes, sketches, and even the odd game of noughts and crosses. "I can't wait to get rid of the damn thing."

"At least when it was changed Dr. Scott said the breaks were healing well."

"Hmmm. I'm still not convinced it will be as good as it was. Being broken in the same two places twice won't do it any favours. But we'll see. As long as I can work, that's the main thing."

"And you will." They're silent for a moment.

"Jemma?"

"Yes?" Fitz looks up at her, a light blush colouring his cheeks. "I really owe you, you know."

Simmons crouches down next to him and takes his hand in both of hers, feeling how warm he is after his exertions. "You saved my life. You don't owe me anything - I'm your best friend. And you'd do the same for me."

"Still..."

"Tell you what, when you're better you can buy me a drink, or three," she says, her eyes sparkling.

"I think I can manage that".

 

* * *

 

**DAY 5**

Jemma twists her hands nervously as she waits at arrivals, her eyes scanning the crowds as they pour through. She's met Fitz's mum before, of course, even speaks to her on the phone to assure her that her son is fine, that he's eating well, that he's not driving Jemma up the wall. That last bit always makes her laugh, and she's usually still laughing when she hands the phone back to a sulking Fitz.

But now he's not fine, his body is getting nourishment through a tube, and she wishes, more than anything in the world, that he _were_ driving her up the wall.

Jemma finally spots her, looking tired and drawn and dragging her suitcase behind her like it weighs more than the entire universe. She makes her way over to her, and when Mrs Fitz sees her, the older woman starts to cry and engulfes Jemma in a huge hug, which she returns just as fiercely. When they break apart, Mrs Fitz puts a hand to Jemma's face, gently tracing over her bruises.

"Oh, you poor darling," she says, her lovely, lilting accent breaking as she speaks, and Jemma gives her a brave smile.

"I'm fine, Helen. He saved my life."

Helen nods, her arms still around the young agent, the girl who she knows her boy holds high above everyone and everything else. He didn't need to tell his dear old mum how he felt about Jemma Simmons - she already knew. "And you saved his. Thank God for you."

Jemma is uncomfortable with the praise, because she's only alive because of him, and there was no way in hell she would have left him behind, even if he'd already been... She shakes off the thought before it breaks her, and instead takes Helen's arm and guides her to the exit where a car is waiting.

"Has there been any change since we spoke yesterday?" Helen asks, hopeful but realistic at the same time. Jemma shakes her head and looks at her apologetically.

"None. But he's stable, and that's the best we can hope for right now." And it certainly was, because yesterday, for exactly forty-four seconds, Fitz had died. His heart had stopped, his blood had ceased to circulate, and he'd been clinically dead. Having to call Helen later that evening to tell her had been harrowing to say the least.

The car has blacked out windows. Helen might be the mother of a heroic agent, but S.H.I.E.L.D., especially new S.H.I.E.L.D., can't take any chances with anyone outside of the organisation knowing the whereabouts of their new base. It's to protect her as much as it is them. So she sits in the back with Jemma, while Billy, who insisted on driving, takes them back to the Playground.

When they arrive, quick introductions are made, Coulson placing a comforting hand on Helen's arm whilst telling her again how brave her son was and that they'll do everything they can to make sure he recovers. Then Jemma takes her straight through to the medical unit. Helen sobs when she sees him.

"Oh, Leo. Oh, my baby boy." She settles by his side and takes his hand in both of hers while leaning over to press a kiss to his hair. "I'm here, little one."

Jemma has to leave the room before she cries again. Fitz would sometimes grumble at his mother's term of endearment, but he had never made her stop. They were so close - Fitz's beloved dad had died when he was nine, the victim of a tragic hit-and-run. He had grandparents, of course, and aunts and uncles and cousins, but he'd clung to his mother and done everything he could to make her happy, to see her smile again. Fitz has told her various stories from his childhood over the years, but he's only ever spoken of his father a handful of times. Jemma knows that his death still affects Fitz deeply, knows that his mother was understandably beside herself with grief, and she can't now lose her only child as well. Fitz has fought hard to be where he is now, not just for himself, not just to make his mother proud, but also to honour his father's memory. The shy boy Jemma had met at the Academy had slowly opened himself up to her - she'd been honoured to gain his trust, to see his confidence grow, to witness his genius, to experience his compassion and loyalty, his good and bad days. They'd blossomed together, playing pranks on fellow students, breaking Academy records, becoming highly respected in their respective fields and as partners, and she won't let that all be for nothing.

Jemma wipes away a stray tear. The thought that he might never come out of his coma, the thought that he _would_ , but that he could be irreparably damaged, that everything that made him who he was would no longer exist except for in a place in the far reaches of his mind, locked away so tightly that not even he can access it, overwhelms Jemma so suddenly that she slides down the wall and onto the floor, her breathing ragged and echoing in the empty corridor, a hand clutching her chest in horror. Everything he'd fought for his whole life, gone, in the blink of an eye.

For her.

She makes a promise there and then that she'll do whatever it takes to get him better. She'll walk over hot coals and glass and go to the farthest corners of the earth, just to see him smile again, to hear him say her name. And to not let his mother be the only one left.

 

* * *

 

**DAY 10**

"Tell us how you met."

Jemma blinks, a little startled by the question because she had long since zoned out. The whole team are in the common room, eating dinner and discussing plans for S.H.I.E.L.D., and Jemma has barely joined in, her thoughts on her best friend.

She didn't realise the topic had changed. "I'm sorry?"

Skye smiles at her. "How did you and Fitz meet?"

The room falls silent. Out the corner of her eye, Jemma can see May giving Skye a warning glare, but she actually doesn't mind the question. Maybe it will actually help.

Jemma smiles fondly at her. "It's actually a rather lovely story..."

_Jemma sighs and tries (or rather, pretends) to pay attention to the girl chattering away next to her. It's not that she doesn't like her. Cassie is very sweet, but she also likes to gossip and regale Jemma with her boyfriend troubles, and it's not that Jemma doesn't care, but she wants to get this experiment written up, and really, the library is supposed to be a place for quiet, not for talking._

_"So I told him I'd have to think about it, of course - it's such a privilege to get into the Academy, as you well know, being one of our youngest, and I really think I should be devoting all of my time to my work, but you have to have fun, don't you? Otherwise work is all you do, and I don't want to be_ that _person, you know?..."_

 _Jemma glances at the young man sitting at the other end of their table on his own, recognising him from their shared chemical engineering class. She's never spoken to him - the few months they've been here, he's always been so quiet and kept himself to himself apart from when the class needs to partner up, and she feels guilty that she hasn't made the effort. A smile tugs at her lips when she sees that he's trying to hide one of his own, clearly amused by Cassie's babbling, and perhaps by the look on her own face - she has no doubt that she looks like she wants to make a run for it. Then he flicks his eyes up to hers, as if he can feel her eyes on him, and while he looks a little shocked at first, he soon smiles when she grins at him, and it's a lovely smile at that. There's something about him that Jemma can't quite put her finger on, and now she really wants to go over and introduce herself, but she has work to do and Cassie is_ still _talking._

_"... So I said I'd think about it, but I think I will. I mean, there's no reason not to, right? Jemma?"_

_"Huh?" she breaks her contact with the boy with the nice smile and blinks at Cassie before realising that she's waiting for an answer. To what, she's not sure._

_"Were you even listening?"_

_"Yes! Yes, of course. And I think yes. Yes, you should."_

_Cassie smiles, and Jemma breathes a small sigh of relief at having said the right thing._

_"Then it's settled. I'll go call him right now". Cassie picks up her books and clutches them to her chest. "I'll let you know how it goes," she promises, and she gives Jemma an excited smile before turning and walking away._

_Jemma sighs, puts down her pen, and leans back in her seat. She likes to have fun as much as the next person, but she also loves work and studying, and the library is not a place for conversation. Still, now she's intrigued by her mysterious classmate at the other end of the table, but not wanting to break the library's rules herself, she scribbles a note, tears the page out of her pad, scrunches it into a ball and throws it towards him. It hits his hand, and he frowns a little in confusion before opening it up, reading it, smiling, and writing a quick reply. He skims it back across the table to her, and she catches it just before it rolls off the edge._

_She smiles, and proceeds to pack her things away. She's lost her train of thought now, and she could do with some refreshment. As she stands, she sees he's already waiting for her, so she makes her way over to him, smiling again, and they leave silently._

_Once in the corridor, Jemma stops and turns to him once more. "She's all right, really - Cassie - she just likes to talk an awful lot at the most inopportune of moments"._

_He chuckles. "I had noticed. Jemma, right?" he asks, a little shyly._

_She nods. "And you're... Leopold?"_

_He pulls a face. "Yes, but please, just call me Fitz. I much prefer my surname."_

_"Not even Leo?"_

_"Only if you're my mum."_

_Jemma laughs. "All right, then, Fitz it is. I suppose you can call me Simmons if you like, or Jemma - I'm not fussy."_

_His blue eyes sparkle. "Come on then, Simmons, let's get that coffee."_

_They start to head in the direction of the cafeteria, but then Jemma has another idea. "Would it be really weird if we went back to my dorm instead?" Fitz widens his eyes at her, unsure of what she's suggesting, and she doesn't blame him. "Not- No. I mean, I have coffee, and I also have a very lovely box of Ceylon."_

_"Oh. Well, in that case..."_

_xxxx_

_Fitz looks around her room as she's making their drinks. She smiles at him when she catches his eye, and he blushes a little._

_"Sorry, I'm not being nosy, it's just... I have the same TARDIS."_

_They both laugh._

_"It's brilliant, though, isn't it?" Jemma says, handing him a mug of tea as he perches on her bed. "I mean, do you think it could be possible one day?"_

_"Time travel? Absolutely. Actually, this is something I've thought a lot about."_

_"Me, too!" Jemma sits down next to him and takes a sip of her drink. "Tell me your theories..."_

"And that was that. We were completely on the same wavelength, and decided to partner up next time in class. After that, we refused to work with anyone else. We understood each other in ways no one else did. And not just that - he made me laugh, he wasn't scared to argue with me, we challenged each other, we stuck up for each other and, believe it or not, he makes the best chocolate chip cookies. He's... home. I know that might sound strange, but we were the only two British students in our year, and we were the same age - it was a great comfort. We know each other completely."

"You two are the cutest dorks", Skye states, matter-of-factly, and no one disagrees with her. Then she frowns. "Hey, why haven't I tried these amazing cookies? Although, the ones I always used to find in the tin in the kitchen are pretty hard to beat."

Jemma smiles knowingly. "They're Fitz's".

"No way! Are you serious? What does he put in them?"

"Sorry, I've been sworn to secrecy."

"Is it drugs? Because seriously, once I've had one, I can't stop."

"That was you?" Coulson suddenly pipes up, then looks uncharacteristically bashful when everyone stares at him. He shrugs his shoulders. "What? Men get cravings, too, right, Trip?"

Trip holds his hands up. "Nothing unhealthy gets put in the temple unless I'm on vacation."

"Must be on a permanent vacation, then..." May says, a mix of sarcasm and humour, and when Trip starts to protest she grins, and Skye proceeds to make fun of him.

"They are addictive, though," Jemma continues. "He's cut me off many times."

Skye looks positively scandalised at that. "He _what_?"

"It's true. I'd binge on them during exam time - he was always so calm and yet I was always a mess, no matter how prepared I was. He'd refuse to make more until I pulled myself together and got some sleep." Jemma giggles at the memory, then smiles sadly. "It's been a while..."

"Hey," Skye says, gently, leaning forward and placing a comforting hand on her knee. "He'll be ok. He has to be, 'cause, you know, Trip hasn't tried them, yet, and I _will_ get one down him."

"I'd like to see you try," Trip says, challengingly.

Jemma laughs a little, then takes a deep breathe to pull herself back together, and says, "Well, then, seems we have bets to place."

Skye grins.

 

* * *

 

**DAY 94**

It's been three months since they sank to the bottom of the ocean. Today, Fitz is finally back in the lab. He's been doing some tinkering here and there, but between his arm being in plaster, physical therapy, and then being sent for R&R, he hasn't had much of a chance to really get stuck into anything. He's handled it pretty well, but for a while, now, Jemma has noticed him getting restless, his hands and his recovering brain itching to get back to what they know best.

He's starting small, easing his way back into being at work, and the team knows he'll need time and patience, so they're not asking much of him. Coulson wasn't even sure he should be back, yet, but Fitz had been pretty convincing, and Jemma had backed him up saying that it would aid his recovery if he could start working on small projects. So, at the moment, he's recalibrating the ICERs and checking over what was retrieved from their lab on the Bus. Of course, they have already been checked by the other scientists Coulson has managed to round up since becoming director, as they were still required in his absence, but Fitz likes things done a certain way, and since these are mostly his designs, he wants to double-check everything and make any adjustments he feels necessary.

Jemma watches him closely whilst going about her own work. He's still tiring a lot quicker than he used to, something that will hopefully right itself in time, and she doesn't want him to overwork himself and give himself a headache.

"You just can't take your eyes off me, can you?"

"Huh?" Jemma blinks and her vision focuses on her grinning boyfriend.

"You don't need to keep such a close eye on me, I'm fine," he reassures, as he moves over to her and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

She sighs and gives him an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, I don't want you to feel smothered, I just..." she gestures into the air as if trying to grasp the words she needs.

Fitz stills her hand and clasps it in his, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

"Fitz, the cameras!"

He rolls his eyes in mock annoyance. "I hardly think that will get us into trouble, and there's no one else in here at the moment, so we're not distracting anyone."

"But the fraternisation clause..."

Fitz gives her hand a squeeze before letting go of it. "Does that even count anymore?"

"Of course it counts. I think. Coulson might be updating the book, but I'm sure the rules and regs won't change that much. You'll just have to keep your hands to yourself until we're off the clock," Jemma says in a teasing tone. "Anyway, I thought you wanted to work?"

"I do - I want all the things," Fitz pouts, and Jemma bites her lip, trying not to laugh at how adorable he looks. She's only partly successful.

"I'm sure I can sneak you a quick kiss during our lunch break."

"I'm sure we could sneak into a supply cupboard..." he winks at her, and heat flashes across her cheeks and down her neck as she begins to blush. He smirks, the little sod, and walks back over to his work station. She'll get him back for that.

Ten minutes later there's a fluttering of papers and a huff of annoyance from somewhere behind her, and she turns to see Fitz with his eyes closed, taking a deep breath. He's dropped his stack of paperwork, the pages now all in a muddle on the floor, and she smiles sympathetically at him even though he can't see her. When he opens his eyes, he crouches down to retrieve them, waving Jemma away when she goes to help him.

"I'm fine, I just thought I had a better grip on them," he grumbles. He shoves the papers back onto the table and starts to sort them into their proper order so they can be filed away, hopefully without further incident.

\----

It's only an hour after lunch, but Jemma can tell that Fitz is getting tired. It's the longest he's had to concentrate in a while, and he keeps rubbing at his forehead and blinking his eyes tight, trying to get them to focus. Also, she notices, his hand-eye coordination is getting a little sloppy. She can tell he's trying to hide it, but he's going to end up with a migraine if he carries on for much longer.

"Why don't you finish up for the day, have a nap?"

Fitz looks up from his computer and wrinkles his nose. "I'm not a baby, I don't take 'naps'."

Jemma knows this to be untrue, because Fitz loves sleeping; it's forth on his list of favourite things after her, engineering, and monkeys - he told her as much only last week. "Fine, a rest, then - a siesta."

"I'm okay, Jemma, honestly. Don't fuss."

He's definitely not 'okay'. He's irritable, but she doesn't push because she doesn't want to cause an argument - not yet, anyway. She'll give it another half hour and see how he is. She goes back to the samples she has in front of her and pushes another slide under her microscope, but manages to glance his way undetected every so often.

Fitz leaves his computer and walks over to a table which is holding an assortment of guns and gadgets he has been working through, and picks up a pair of x-ray specs.

Jemma watches as he reaches for them with one hand, tries to grip it, and then adds his other hand in order to pick it up properly. His face is a mix of emotions - frustrated, angry, upset, embarrassed - and Jemma can't take it anymore. Her eyes follow him back to his work-station, and she watches as he carefully places the specs down, something so small and light that a person with normal function would only need to pick them up one-handed, and could put them down easily without having to make sure they weren't putting them right on the edge of the surface they were placing them on.

Fitz is purposefully not looking at her, and of course she knows why, and she tries not to make her watching of him too obvious, but she also knows that he knows. Once he's settled, she goes back to her samples, and jumps out of her skin just seconds later when something smashes onto the floor. Fitz has dropped his coffee, the liquid spilling all over his keyboard and dripping off the edge of the desk.

"Oh, Fitz, don't worry," she says, as she goes to grab some paper towels to mop up the mess. In the grand scheme of things, the keyboard is easily replaceable, but she stops short when she sees the look on his face. He's staring straight ahead, his eyes unfocused and watery, and then without warning he spins on his heel and takes off out of the lab.

When Jemma finds him, her heart tugs painfully. He's sitting on the floor in the corner of one of the supply rooms, his knees pulled up to his chest, the heels of his palms pressed against his eyes. His shoulders are heaving, his breathing coming in big, shallow gasps. He's trying not to sob out loud, and he doesn't until Jemma sits down next to him and pulls him into her arms, and the contact breaks him even more. His arms go around her waist, his face presses into the crook of her shoulder, and all she can do is hold him and press kisses to his hair as he cries. No matter how horrible it is, he needs to let it all out. There were a few tears in hospital, especially right at the beginning when he couldn't communicate properly, couldn't speak, and he was frightened, but since then, apart from becoming frustrated at times, he's never really let go, never allowed himself to completely grasp just what has happened to him, too focused on working hard to recover. Jemma knew that it would happen eventually, and that going back to work would be a huge test, but she hadn't expected it to happen on his first day back, and she unfairly berates herself for not thinking that it would only take something small to set him off, because what would seem small to her, would undoubtedly seem huge to him given the circumstances. She's been looking for the signs ever since he woke up, so to then miss them makes her so angry with herself, as a doctor, as his best friend, as his girlfriend. She should have _known_ that he was about to crack, and she doesn't understand why she didn't. But, she blinks back the tears that are beginning to sting her eyes, quells the upset of seeing him like this, and holds strong for him. He's been through so much, so she'll sit there for as long as it takes, for as long as he needs to, and she'll do it again and again if it means he's not keeping things bottled up. However, she doesn't regret agreeing with him that he was well enough to come back - he was getting fidgety and bored, and she sticks by her medical opinion that he's better off here, where he can do what he does best and not end up climbing the walls. His brain needs this, needs to recondition itself, and even though she didn't want to fuss over him too much on his first day, she knows she should have just put her foot down, made him pace himself better. Head over heart when it comes to his medical needs. She hates to see him like this, but she's glad it's finally happened, that coming back to work has pushed him over the edge, because now he can really start to rebuild himself. He needed to break to be able to do that, and now, hopefully, he can move forward.

When he finally starts to calm, she doesn't say anything, she just continues to hold him close, sobs hiccuping out of him occasionally until he eventually falls silent, his breathing deep and even, and Jemma realises that he's fallen asleep. Unfortunately, though, they can't just stay on the cold, hard floor of the storage room until he wakes up. She can't carry him to his room, and he'll be mortified if she calls someone else to do it and he finds out.

"Fitz?" She shakes him gently, feeling guilty as she does so. "Hey, come on sleepy-head, let's get you to bed." Fitz stirs momentarily, but then settles again. Jemma sighs. Her backside is going numb and so is the arm that's trapped around him. "Fitz, wakey wakey..."

He wakes a little this time and mumbles something unintelligible, but Jemma keeps on trying to rouse him enough that she can get him on his feet. Eventually, she manages it, but he's like a dead weight against her, and he's so out of it that he doesn't even realise what's going on. They move slowly towards the door (although, actually, it's more like some sort of hilarious shuffle from a zombie B movie). Getting it open is a challenge, but once they're in the corridor, it becomes a little easier. She stops for a moment to ponder the best way to go without too many people seeing them. She could just get him onto a chair in the lab and fold her jacket up so he can rest his head on his desk semi-comfortably, but if she leaves him at such an angle when he's already achy and in pain, he'll wake with one hell of a headache. She decides to keep going up the corridor that leads away from the back of the lab, all the way to the briefing room, but when they reach said room, she groans and screws up her face. She can hear Coulson in there, talking to their newest recruits.

"Simmons?"

Jemma jumps and nearly sends Fitz flying in the process. She steadies him before looking up and staring straight into May's eyes. "It's a long story," she says, her rambling instantaneous. "He was getting tired and then he got upset with himself and then after he calmed down he fell asleep but it was on the floor and I was trying to get him back to his room without anyone noticing-"

"Simmons, _breathe_."

Jemma does as she's told.

May walks round to Fitz's other side and helps her hold him up. "Come on, this way..."

xxxx

"Thank you, May," Jemma says gratefully, after Fitz has been put to bed, seemingly not having registered anything that just happened. She closes his door quietly behind her as they step into the hall. "He just overdid it, that's all. He-"

May puts a hand up to silence her, and then places that hand on her shoulder in a gesture of comfort. "No one is going to try and stop Fitz from working, if that's what you're worried about. I know it'll be difficult, but hopefully after today it will be easier to make him stop before he hits the wall, and you need to make sure of that - we all do."

Jemma gives her a relieved smile. "I will."

"Being tough with him might seem harsh, but he'll thank you for it, later. If he wants to remain a SHIELD agent, he'll have to learn that not overdoing it will get him to where he needs to be a lot quicker."

"I know. And I know he knows that. I just don't think he realised just how hard it would be."

May nods, and leaves Jemma with a reassuring smile before walking away from her. Jemma stands for a moment, thinking, then heads back towards the lab to finish her work and clear up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're sensitive to sexual situations, skip day 82, although it doesn't go into that much detail, and I've cut the scene off before it gets really steamy.

**DAY 61**

"Run, Jemma, run!"

She _is_ bloody running, the cheek. She feels like her lungs are about to burst out of her chest, but adrenalin is keeping her going, excitement coursing through her veins, and she can do this, and if she does, it means they've won. She still can't believe she managed to whack the ball as far as she did, although she had been rather good at rounders at school.

Everyone is cheering as she passes each base, and she can easily pick out Fitz's voice amongst the American accents. She briefly registers that he shouldn't be over-exciting himself so much, but she continues to push and push, and she can feel the sweat on her skin and the warm breeze against her face, and she's going to make it, she's actually going to make it. The last base is in sight, and she can see frenzied activity in her peripheral vision, but then suddenly she's there, and it was so close that she doesn't realise she's made it until someone shouts "home run!", and then she's whooping in celebration and jumping up and down, and... Nope, she really needs to sit down. So she does, except she doesn't sit, she just flops down and lies there, sprawled like a starfish, her chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath.

"Simmons, that was amazing!"

Jemma squints and throws her hand above her eyes to block out the sun as she looks up at Skye, who is grinning down at her rather manically. Trip, May, and the rest of their baseball team quickly join her, faces that are fairly new, but she can just about put names to them all. And of course, there's- "Fitz, sit down."

He rolls his eyes at her and instead thrusts his hand through the crowd that's gathered around her. She takes it and allows him to pull her into a sitting position. May hands her a bottle of water, which she downs gratefully, and then Coulson's there, and she knows he shouldn't really have favourites when it comes to being director, but his face says it all - he's pleased that her team won.

As team-building exercises go, this has actually been a lot of fun, and it kind of feels like a school trip. The Playground doesn't really have any outdoor space, considering it's a secret base and surrounded by trees, so they'd all travelled to the nearest baseball pitch. They can take a little time for things like this at the moment. It's only been a couple of months, and even though there have been several missions, and work to do in the lab, this new S.H.I.E.L.D. is only in its infancy, and it can't be rushed, not when they're still not sure who they can and can't trust. Vetting processes have been more than strict, and even though they still have the backing of the government, and S.H.I.E.L.D. will remain a government agency (something Coulson had worked very hard on, along with May and Trip, convincing the powers-that-be that they could get back what had been lost, that they were needed, especially as there was no other agency like them, no one else to fend off alien threats and crazed scientists), it's going to take time.

Jemma finally stands and joins in with the hand-shaking with the other team of agents. One of them, agent Johnson, smiles at her a bit too keenly.

"Well done, Simmons. Maybe we should train together sometime - you certainly look like you could give me a run for my money."

Out the corner of her eye, she can see Fitz glaring at him, although she's not sure if he's aware he's doing it, and she's not going to point it out to him later because they haven't had _that_ conversation yet - she's not even sure if he remembers what he said to her, but he's not asked anything of her, he hasn't made her feel uncomfortable or behaved any different from usual. But the thing is, seeing him glare at Johnson is making her stomach flip - in fact, that's been happening rather a lot, lately. When he gives her that smile that she knows is meant only for her, when they touch, when they hug and his mouth is close to her ear as he speaks...

"Simmons?"

Jemma blinks and comes back to herself. "Huh? Oh, I'm sorry - I'm exhausted after all that. Um, maybe?" She doesn't want to be mean and say no outright, but she really doesn't want to train with him, either, even though she's recently been working hard to build her strength up, because after what's happened, she needs to be able to defend herself properly. "Would you excuse me?" she says, smiling politely at him before turning and making her way over to Fitz. She catches his eye and looks at him fondly. He's still on his feet, but is now resting on his crutches.

"Everything all right?" he asks, a picture of perfect nonchalance.

"Johnson wants me to train with him," she replies, pulling a face. It has the desired effect - Fitz laughs. "How are you feeling?"

"All the better for seeing you run round the pitch like you were being chased by a Dementor."

Jemma's mouth drops open, and he laughs again, his blue eyes glittering in the sunlight. Her stomach is suddenly filled with butterflies, their wings beating against her relentlessly. She takes a breath to try and settle them. "Listen, mister, I could very easily just give you a tiny push and you'd be on your bum, so watch it."

"You're such a bully."

They grin at each other.

"Hey, here you go," Trip interrupts them, handing Jemma and Fitz a beer each.

"I probably shouldn't drink this," Fitz says, looking at Jemma for her medical opinion. He's still on medication, after all.

"Half will be fine. I'll drink the rest."

Trip nods. "Yeah, you deserve it, winning the game for us. That was some run - you literally looked like you were being chased by a bear." He winks at Fitz as he says it, and the two of them titter like schoolboys.

Jemma gives him an unamused smile. "Yes, it felt like my feet were hardly touching the ground. In fact, you could say I was _defying gravity_ ". She stares at Trip pointedly, and his eyes widen comically.

"What... What's going on?" Fitz asks, looking between the two of them, confused.

"Nothing," Trip says, a little too quickly.

"Oh, would we say it was nothing?" Jemma challenges, smiling evilly at him.

"I... how did you _know_ ," Trip demands, giving in, his voice now a harsh whisper.

Jemma turns to Fitz. "He likes to sing songs from musicals in the shower."

"Shhhhh!" Trip puts a hand over her mouth. "Stop it!"

"Aw, come on, Trip - that's nothing to be embarrassed about." Fitz is trying his damned best to keep a straight face, but doesn't quite manage it. Instead he snorts and says, "Jemma and I love a good musical."

It's true, they actually do, although Jemma can tell it's not something Trip wants to become common knowledge, whereas they don't care either way.

"All right, all right, touché. Damn, I only do that late at night when no one is around."

"A few nights ago I couldn't sleep, so I went for a walk," Jemma grins, satisfied.

Skye wanders up to them. "Hey, what are you guys talking about?" She looks at the three of them, then eyes Trip suspiciously. "Why do you look so on edge? Is this about you singing in the shower?"

* * *

 

**DAY 7**

Jemma's nervous. Dr. Scott wants to take Fitz off of the ventilator to see if he can breathe on his own. She knows these things need to be done, but it's not her in charge of him, not like when she was looking after Skye on the Bus, and that gives her time to actually think about things instead of just working on auto-pilot.

Helen is white as a sheet. She's exhausted, and Jemma wonders if now is the right time to be doing this. But Helen finally lifts her head and nods her consent. She needs some good news, they all do, and if he can breathe on his own, then that's something to cling to.

Dr. Scott, assisted by a nurse, gets to work, carefully removing the tube from Fitz's throat. Helen closes her eyes, unable to watch, both her arms wrapped around Jemma's left one. The blood-oxygen monitor dips, and Jemma can feel her heart racing. _Come on Fitz, you can do this, please, please breathe..._

Finally, after what seems like minutes, but is really only seconds, Fitz takes a breath. The blood-oxygen monitor levels out again, his pulse holding steady.

Dr. Scott smiles. "He's certainly a fighter."

All Helen can do is sob with relief and clutch at her son's hand. Jemma glances up at the doctor and smiles her thanks, hoping it conveys every bit of gratitude she's feeling. If she tries to speak, she thinks she might cry again. It's a wonder she hasn't run out of tears and dried up and blown away like a leaf on the autumn breeze.

* * *

 

**DAY 30**

"You've cut your hair - I like it."

Jemma jumps, not expecting to hear Fitz's voice so strongly and clearly. She's only been in the room a few minutes, and he'd greeted her with a wonky smile and a "Hey", and she hadn't expected anything more, not yet, not when he was still struggling with sentences, or so she'd thought.

She looks up from where she's been removing items from her bag, and the cheeky git is _grinning_ at her, and not the lopsided smile he'd just about been managing to give her, but a full on, toothy grin, and if she wasn't so happy she'd throw something at him. "Fitz!"

"Surprise," he says, a little slower, as if that sentence and the amount of control he'd had to force into it took all the energy he had. It probably did.

Jemma returns his infectious smile, her eyes watering a little as she sits herself on the edge of his bed. "That's amazing! Has someone else been helping you?"

Fitz nods, looking very proud of himself for making her so happy. "Skye," he says. "Your hair... First thing I-" he pauses, working his mouth, and she can tell he's having an argument with his brain. "No... No- _ticed_ , when woke... up."

Jemma can't help but laugh. Of all the things.

"'S'pretty," he continues, lifting a weak arm to try and gesture to her recently chopped locks. He's been out of his coma for almost three weeks ago, and he's been waiting all that time to say something. She's touched. She blushes, and glances away from him. It's not a new thing, Fitz telling her he thinks she looks nice. Granted, it wasn't a common occurrence, but he notices when she changes something, or when something is new, and he always complements her on it. When they'd gone to their Academy graduation ball together, he'd even told her she looked beautiful, and it was only then that she'd felt it, having been unsure about everything from her gown to her make-up. She smiles to herself as she remembers how uncomfortable Fitz looked in his tux, how he'd kept tugging at it and she'd had to keep slapping his hands away. But he'd looked good in it, despite that. She'd been quite taken aback. Now, all those complements he's given her mean so much more because she knows how he really feels about her, but she's not sure if he remembers telling her, so for now, she keeps that to herself, still uncertain of her own feelings.

"Thank you. I wasn't sure."

He gives her a thumbs up this time, giving his brain a little rest so he doesn't tire himself out too quickly. It's remarkable how well he's being doing, considering not even three weeks ago they weren't sure he would even be able to speak again. Not knowing what else to do, she squeezes his hand, and he looks down at where her fingers are curled around his, and attempts to squeeze back. It's difficult, but he manages a light one. Silence fills the room, but it's not uncomfortable. Finally, she releases his hand and stands.

"Have you had your physiotherapy today?"

"Mmm."

"Good." She looks at him with a twinkle in her eye. "How about a trip outside?"

He breaks into another smile. "Please," he manages.

She knows he's hated being cooped up inside, and half an hour in the sunshine won't hurt. She brings over the wheelchair from the corner of the room and parks it beside the bed. Fitz looks at it uncertainly, then throws the same look at her. He hates having everything done for him. "I know. But it won't be forever, I promise." She helps him swing his legs over the edge of the bed, then takes most of his weight as she moves him into the chair. He can't lift his arms, yet, much less use them to push himself into the chair by himself. Once he's comfortable, Jemma tucks a blanket around him, and he pulls a face at her but she continues regardless, before pushing him out of the room, looking both ways as she enters the corridor, and then guiding him along to the entrance of the base and punching in a code on the wall-panel to release the heavy door. She hasn't asked his doctor's permission to take him outside, and while she doesn't like breaking the rules, she can't be bothered to go running off to find him, and if she's going to break them for anyone, she'll break them for Fitz. Besides, Coulson knows that they're out here - she'd gone to him beforehand, because with HYDRA still a threat, they had to be careful, even out here, miles deep in a forest. She knows the security cameras are being watched very closely for any sign of trouble.

Jemma turns Fitz away from the sun a little so that it doesn't hurt his eyes, and plops down on a log next to him. "There, that's better."

Fitz has his eyes closed, a small smile gracing his features as he relishes the warmth of the sun on his skin. "I'd almost... for... _forgotten_ what this feels like. Do you... think we'll... even-tually get a new head... _headquarters_... windows?"

Jemma leans her chin in her hands, her elbows resting on her knees. She knows what he means. "I suppose. I mean, I hope so. This is nothing compared to how big the Hub was, but for now we have to keep our heads down. HYDRA is still out there, and they can't know what we're doing."

"I know, s'just..."

She looks at him sadly. "Yeah, I know. I hate not seeing night turn into day and day turn into night. I miss just sitting by the window and looking at the stars. It was nice on the Bus, in our little bunks, with our little windows." She sighs. They have special lights that mimic the sunrise and sunset, so their circadian rhythm isn't affected, but it's not the same. She feels fingertips brushing against her arm, and she smiles up at Fitz, then sits up straighter, reaching for his hand with hers. "Anyway, we haven't come out here to mope." She gives his fingers a squeeze, and he manages a light one in return.

"How's... lab..." Fitz shakes his head. "How's the lab?"

"Weird. Jerry, the new engineer I was telling you about the other day, doesn't know any of the games we play to build ideas, doesn't watch Doctor Who-"

Fitz makes a sound that is part indignant and part surprised.

"I _know_. He doesn't get my jokes, either."

"Jokes?"

"Oh, haha. You've laughed at my jokes, don't pretend you haven't. Oh, and sometimes when I'm talking he looks really blank. I mean, he's nice enough, and he's a good engineer, but it's obvious he's used to working on his own, which is bizarre, if you ask me, because think of all the amazing inventions S.H.I.E.L.D. wouldn't have had if we'd never met!" She smiles at him, thinking of their past achievements, but then her face drops at the look on his. "I'm sorry, Fitz, that was insensitive of me, moaning about work when at least I can be there."

He shakes his head. "No, s'okay. M'sorry I'm... not there."

Jemma moves closer to him. Her hand is still in his, and she hadn't even noticed. She moves it, now, lets go and places it on his shoulder. "Don't ever apologise for that, Fitz. You saved my life. And you will be - it's only been a month since... And look how well you're doing. You'll be back in the lab and annoying me again in no time."

Fitz laughs. "Can't wait."

They sit in companionable silence for a while, both looking up at the sky and enjoying the pleasant breeze that wafts over them.

"Elephant."

Jemma blinks, then stares at her best friend. "What?"

Fitz nods up towards the sky. "Clouds."

Oh. She smiles and turns her face back up. She points to a small one with gaps in it. "Skull."

"Oh, there you are."

They both jump, and look round to see Dr. Scott staring at them with mild amusement.

Fitz grins. "Busted."

Jemma smiles at the doctor sheepishly. "Sorry, I thought it was about time he got some fresh air, and I couldn't find you." It's only a small lie - she hadn't actually looked for him, of course, but he's not to know that.

Thankfully, the doctor smiles back at her. "Yes, you're right, Dr. Simmons. That's what I hate about this place - no windows. But not too long, okay?" He turns and heads back inside.

The two scientists focus their attention back to the sky.

"Yoda!" they both call out in unison.

* * *

 

**DAY 82**

They can't wait any longer. They're curled up together watching TV when it happens. Fitz's hand is idly running up and down her bare arm, his fingers tracing patterns and causing goosebumps to rise on her skin. Up until now she's been very good at controlling herself. The last several days they've been kissing like teenagers every chance they get, and holding hands when they're alone and snuggling up together when Jemma finishes work for the day. Their hotel room has twin beds (they'd been very surprised when Coulson had told them that he didn't mind if they shared a room when they were off-duty, as long as they were on time for briefing in his the next morning), and they'd stuck to them last night, even though the tension between them has been so thick you'd need a chainsaw to cut through it, never mind a knife. They've been respectful of each other, neither wanting to rush the other, but after a grand total of five days - which, given that it's been a good while for both of them, feels like a lifetime - they're starting to crack.

Jemma shivers and inhales sharply, not even bothering to try and not let it affect her anymore, and Fitz stills, although she can feel and hear the change in his breathing, and she suddenly feels dizzy with anticipation, and there's a tingling in the pit of her stomach that's all too familiar, except it's never been this intense before. After a moment, Fitz moves his hand again, slipping his fingers slowly down her arm until he reaches where the tips of her fingers are resting against her thigh. Jemma's body reacts by pushing closer to him, and he drags his hand from hers, sliding it up her leg until it meets the bare skin of her waist where her top has ridden slightly up. Her breath catches in her throat, and that's when the dam breaks. She twists to face him fully, and their mouths instantly meet in a hot, frantic kiss. It's messy, but in completely the right way, and somehow they end up on their knees, facing each other and pulling at each other's clothes without any real care. The buttons of Fitz's shirt come flying off as she yanks it open (she's always wanted to do that), her t-shirt gets caught over her head, and she laughs as Fitz tries to free her, and the next second it's sailing across the room. Jemma always thought their first time would be slow and nerve-racking, because they've known each other for so long and it's such a huge step that they'd be scared of messing it up, but they don't even have the time or the inclination to think about that, now. Fitz pulls her up against him, his lips crashing back down on hers, and seconds later his hands are sliding round to the back of her bra, unclipping it and pushing the straps down her arms, all the while not breaking their kiss. Jemma gasps when her bare chest brushes against his, and Fitz takes the opportunity to remove his mouth from hers and press wet kisses down the length of her neck, his hands brushing up her arms and then across to pay attention to her breasts. His touch, the feel of his lips, warm and soft, sets her skin on fire, sends desire coursing through her veins. She tips her head back in response, unravelling under his ministrations, and she's breathing so fast she's afraid she might hyperventilate, especially when she suddenly finds herself on her back and Fitz is pressing her into the sofa. She wraps her legs around him as he continues to rain kisses down on her body, and writhes beneath him. When he reaches the button on her jeans, she manages to make her voice work just enough to breathe "Not here - bed", and he complies immediately, standing and pulling her up and onto her feet. She throws her arms around his neck, wanting his mouth again, and they stumble across the room rather comically, unable to leave each other alone for even a second. Fitz bashes into the coffee table and curses, but Jemma rights him and they continue over to the closest bed, which happens to be hers. She tugs at the belt on his jeans, pops the button and pulls down the fly, and they slip from his hips with a little tug. Hers, on the other hand, are proving much more difficult - Fitz has got them undone, but they won't budge. The perils of skinny jeans. Her hands are all over him as he tries to pull them down, her lips on his neck, focusing on how his skin tastes rather than helping him.

"Bloody hell, Jemma," he all but growls in her ear, his accent thicker than she's ever heard it, and she whimpers against him. It turns her on so much that she almost falls apart there and then. But she manages to hold it together, and giggles as she tries to help him free her. They finally yank the offending item down her legs, and then Jemma falls forward as she tries to step out of them, sending Fitz flying backwards onto the bed. He's trying not to laugh, she can tell, but as soon as she's kicked the stupid skinnies away he pulls her down on top of him so she ends up straddling him, and then it's not so funny anymore. Fitz flips them over, one hand in her hair as he kisses her, the other pulling down her knickers, and that's not fair, so she reaches for his boxers and gets them down as far as she can before he has to take over. And then that's it - they're completely naked, but rather than suddenly suffering from embarrassment, as she'd previously anticipated, they just stare at each other unashamedly, because they're too far gone to care. Fitz leans back down and kisses his way up her stomach, across her breasts, and up all the way to her ear where he whispers "Beautiful," and that's it, she needs him right now. His face still close to hers, she moves and lifts her head just a little so she can take his earlobe between her teeth, which causes him to moan into her neck. "Fitz, please..." she begs. One of his hands is sliding back down her body, and she instinctively knows where it's headed, but she needs all of him - she can't wait. They can explore all they like next time, she just needs this unbearable ache to be taken care of before she bursts into flames. So she captures his roaming hand with hers and rocks her hips against him, and he takes the hint and positions himself better between her legs. She can feel him pressing against her thigh, and she makes a low, needy sound in her throat before realising that he's stilled.

"Protection," he manages to say, a little breathlessly.

Jemma pushes herself up so her face is right up close to his. "Pill," she murmurs against his lips. That's all he needs, and he presses her back into the bed, their mouths sliding together messily again, like the urgency was never put on hold. She gasps from the feel of his hand brushing across the over-sensitised flesh of her thigh, shivering as it trails upwards to grip her hip. His other hand is linked with her left one, up by her head, her other one splayed against his back, her fingertips pressing into his heated skin, and then he moves, and her head falls back with a sharp intake of breath as she arches up to meet him, and she sinks into complete bliss.

* * *

 

**DAY 12**

When Fitz wakes up, finally, after nearly two, agonising weeks, Jemma cries with relief. And she'd nearly missed it, because she had been about to leave after spending the evening by his side, reading him articles she knew he'd find interesting, telling him about what the team were up to and keeping his mother company.

"I couldn't help overhearing your conversation earlier," Jemma had said, cautiously, the phone call she'd unintentionally eavesdropped on playing on her mind.

Helen had smiled, had even blushed a little, her pretty face lighting up for the first time since she'd arrived. "His name's David, he's an accountant. Sounds boring, I know," she'd laughed, "but he's not, and he's lovely. He hasn't even met Leo, but he's so concerned about him. He's been a rock. We've only been seeing each other for a few months, but I have a really good feeling about it. Leo's terribly over-protective of me, so I hadn't mentioned it to him - I wanted to wait and see if it was going anywhere first. But I think he'll like him."

Jemma had grinned widely at her, happy that she had someone waiting for her, that she'd have support when she got home and wouldn't be worrying alone. Helen was an attractive woman, had grown into middle-age gracefully, and certainly didn't look all of her fifty-two years. Jemma was surprised it had taken her so long to find someone, but then she imagined Fitz looking them up and down and asking them to state what their intentions towards his mother were, and she'd giggled, sharing the joke with Helen herself, who'd laughed with her, and then they hadn't been able to stop. It had been nice, and rather than feeling guilty about laughing in front of her comatose best friend, she'd hoped that Fitz had heard them, that the laughter had reached him and had helped to stimulate his brain, that he would be so incensed at them making fun of him that he'd wake up and tell them off.

And when the laughter had faded, and she'd kept an eye on the machines for any sort of spike, she hadn't been able to keep the disappointment off her face when nothing happened.

"Don't worry, my love, I'm sure he heard," Helen had said reassuringly, her own face falling a little.

A little while after that, Jemma had bid her goodnight, leaving mother and son alone. She'd taken only three steps down the corridor before she'd heard Helen shouting out for her and she'd gone running back.

Jemma blinks back tears, trying to contain her joy enough to check him over. She leans across and presses the call button on the wall to alert the med team, and looks down into Fitz's squinting eyes. She moves to block out some of the light, and that seems to help.

"Leo? Leo, it's me, your mum. Oh, my darling, we've been so worried," Helen cries, kissing his face and clutching his hand.

But Fitz doesn't respond. His eyes are moving, and Jemma can tell that he can hear her, but he doesn't try and speak, doesn't try and move - even so, he looks terrified, his breathing rapid, and his pulse rises so fast that he quickly becomes tachycardic.

Jemma quickly puts him on oxygen and tries to calm him down.

"Jemma, what's wrong with him?"

Before she can reply, the med team rush in, and they're gently but firmly moved out of the way, so they stand on the other side of the room, holding onto each other, their eyes not leaving the young man who means the world to both of them.

Finally, Dr. Scott comes over to them.

"We're taking Agent Fitz for an MRI. It's not uncommon after the type of brain trauma he's suffered to not be able to speak or communicate, but we want to see if anything has changed since his last scan."

"But what does that mean, will he be able to speak again?" Helen asks, terrified. Jemma can't tell who is shaking more, her or the poor woman beside her.

Dr. Scott gives her a tight smile, clearly wanting to be reassuring, but at the same time not wanting to get her hopes up in case the worst happens. "It's a possibility - with speech therapy we may be able to give his brain a push in the right direction. He's alert and reactive, which is a good sign, and his vitals are beginning to stabilise again, but it's still early days." He places a gentle hand on Helen's shoulder. "There are no certainties with brain injuries, and we won't know the extent of the damage until he's been sent for tests, and even then anything could happen. It's going to be a waiting game, I'm afraid. Would you like to come with him? We've given him a sedative to calm him down, but I'm sure he would like to know you're there."

Helen nods and looks at Jemma. Dr. Scott smiles apologetically. "Only one of you, I'm afraid."

"Jemma, you know what's going on, you might be more of a reassurance to him."

Jemma shakes her head, knowing Fitz's mother only wants what's best for him, but refusing to take this away from her. "No, you're his mum, you should go. I'll let the team know what's happened."

Helen gives her arm a squeeze, and moments later she's left alone, staring at the empty space where Fitz was only seconds before. She sits for a little while, worried that her legs will give way from under her if she tries to walk, then she summons all of her strength and slowly makes her way to the common room, hoping everyone is in there at this time of the evening and that she doesn't have to chase anyone down. She wants to tell them all at the same time - she doesn't think she can bare to repeat it more than once. She knows exactly what Dr. Scott meant, knows that while yes, there is a possibility that Fitz will speak again, there is also the possibility that he won't, and it makes her feel sick. She spends the rest of her short walk fighting to keep the nausea down.

* * *

 

**DAY 47**

"Hello! What have you got there?" Jemma enquires, as she enters the med unit on her lunch break, a paper bag in her arms containing food for her and Fitz.

Fitz almost drops what he's holding at the sound of her voice. "Nothing much, I'm just tinkering."

Jemma places the bag on the table that Fitz is working on and wrinkles her nose as she looks down at what he's doing. "Is that one of your miniature floating security cameras? And, isn't there just one, tiny problem?"

"My arm is in plaster, I can't grip with that hand hardly at all, and I can't very well with my other hand, either, so really, I've just been chasing it around the table. And yet..."

"And yet you're giving it a bloody good go." She sighs at him. "I just don't want you tiring yourself out too much. Where did you get it?"

"Um... Coulson. Don't look at me like that," he says, as she purses her lips. "He didn't ask me to, obviously - he popped in this morning, said I looked bored, which I _am_ , and asked if he could get anything for me."

"I thought that was what your laptop was for?"

"I know, but I just wanted to-"

"-tinker." She looks at the little tool kit lying next to the tiny box he's trying so hard to fiddle with, then sits down and starts to serve up their lunch. "Just don't hurt yourself." He could easily end up taking skin off with that screwdriver, and she winces as it chooses that moment to slip in his weak grasp.

"Yep," he says, barely paying attention, too focused on trying to prise open the top of the box. Jemma wonders how long he's been at it, and worries that he'll soon get frustrated and upset himself, but he seems more determined than anything else at the moment. Maybe it's because he _knows_ that his broken arm and cast will obviously limit him, it's something tangible that he can see.

"Can I tempt you away from it for now with an hour of my company and the promise of your favourite sandwich?"

That gets his attention. He grins up at her. "You see, _that's_ why you're my favourite person."

"Because I make good sandwiches?"

"Well, not just that, of course, but it's a very noble skill to have."

"Nobody ever saved a life by putting fillings between bread."

"Well, actually-"

"-No. You do not have a real life story about lives being saved by wholemeal and prosciutto."

Fitz rolls his eyes at her affectionately. "You're such a killjoy, Simmons."

She ignores him and breaks his sandwich in half so that he can tackle it better, and hands him the first piece.

He drops it, and scowls. "Don't you dare say that was because I wasted energy playing with my toys."

Jemma looks mock-affronted. "I would _never_." Then she picks it up and offers it to him with a soft smile. "Here, I'll help you hold it." It's nothing new, helping him eat, but she knows it embarrasses him, especially now he's becoming more and more independent. Still, he smiles at her, and it's not so bad for him when he's holding the other side and doing most of the work - really, all she's doing is stopping it from falling. She picks hers up with her free hand, and takes a bite.

"Mmm, why I can't I just eat these every day?"

Jemma swallows. "Because you'd get bored, and then you'd have to find another favourite, and if you think I'm going to stand there and make a hundred different sandwiches while you test them all, then you're very much mistaken."

Fitz bursts out laughing.

"It wasn't that funny!"

"I know, I know, it's just... I pictured your face, surrounded by piles of bread..."

Jemma unsuccessfully tries to keep her face neutral - a grin pulls her lips up and crinkles her eyes. She shakes her head "You're such a sod."

"I know, I'm sorry."

"Don't be, just eat." She's missed their easy banter, and now he has his speech under control, it's easier to be like this with him again.

When they're done, and Jemma's cleared up, Fitz pushes the little camera towards her. She looks at him questioningly, and he shrugs.

"You're right. Take it."

"Fitz..."

"No, it's okay. I knew it was a bit pointless at the moment, I just wanted..."

"Yeah, I know." She rests a hand on his good arm.

He nods towards his cast. "This'll be off, soon, and then I can try again." He yawns.

She smiles fondly at him. "I'll let you get some sleep."

"You said an hour - it's not been an hour. Will you stay until then?"

"Of course I will," Jemma promises, pushing the wheeled table down to the end of his bed.

Fitz lies back against his pillows and closes his eyes. He waggles his good(ish) hand, the one nearest to her, and she grasps it, smiling when she sees one of his own pulling at his lips. It's not long before he's fast asleep, but she stays true to her word, as always, and doesn't leave until it's time for her to go back.

* * *

 

**DAY 112**

Jemma knocks on Fitz's door, and let's herself in when he calls out. She walks straight up to him, and doesn't even give him a chance to say anything before she fists her hands in his t-shirt and pulls him in for a rather steamy kiss.

When they part, Fitz stares at her with unfocused eyes. "G-good morning to you, too," he says, a little breathlessly.

"Did you know that it's exactly one hundred days since you woke up from your coma?"

"Oh. Well, that went quick," he replies, shaking himself out of his daze.

"We should celebrate."

"Mmm, I agree..." he pulls her in for another kiss, and Jemma laughs against him.

"Not now - later. We have to get ready for work."

Fitz's mouth drops open. He looks scandalised. "Excuse me, but you were the one who waltzed in here and kissed me like it was going out of fashion."

She smiles at him coquettishly. "Think of it as an amuse-bouche."

Fitz raises his eyebrows at her. "I don't recall ever having to be made to wait so long for the main course."

She steps back from him, still smiling. "I'll see you in the lab..."

"Wha...?!"

Jemma only let's herself laugh once she's back on the other side of the door.

_"I can hear you, Simmons, you little minx!"_

She claps a hand over her mouth and hurries down the hall. She still finds it odd that they can be like this with each other, now, that they do things they'd never expected each other to do (and, fair enough, behave in ways others probably didn't expect, either), but it's exhilarating, and causes such an addictive rush that she doesn't ever want to stop. Still, for now, she has work to do, and if anyone has been secretly worried that it might affect their focus, then they don't know her and Fitz well enough, although she's a hundred percent certain that Coulson, May, Skye and Trip don't think that, and she's really not worried about what any of the other agents think about it. Still, it can't be helped if there's the odd, stolen kiss...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews are like cake, fattening and tasty. Except, not fattening at all, just very satisfying. 
> 
> I know. Cheek.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my longest chapter yet, and I know not everyone likes really long chapters, so I'm sorry! This was also the hardest one so far to put together.
> 
> But, like I promised, this includes the day they become a romantic fluffball. That's why this chapter is so long. I've been with my other half for a long time, now, but I sat and remembered how I felt when I fell in love, how nervous I was, the butterflies in my stomach, how it threw my emotions into a loop. So I've applied that here, only I've tried to imagine what it would be like if I'd been best friends with him for years, first. And yeah, it is completely sap-tastic.

**DAY 68**

"Playing with goo again?"

Jemma jumps so hard that she's surprised when she doesn't have a heart attack. "For god's sake, Fitz!" she whirls around angrily, glaring at him, although she feels an instant pang of guilt at the look on his face.

He holds his hands up in front of him, trying to placate her, his eyes wide and shocked. "Woah, Jemma, I'm sorry."

"Just..." she takes a deep breath and puts her hands on her hips. "I'm busy. And no - as you can see, quite clearly, I'm calibrating the micropipettes."

Fitz stares at her with furrowed brows. "Are you all right?"

"Yes!" she turns back round and carries on with her work, but she can feel him behind her, his eyes boring into the back of her head. She feels terrible, because she knows she just completely overreacted, and the only reason she did was because she'd been thinking about him at the time. Thinking about...

"Jemma, what's wrong?"

She flinches as his hand touches her shoulder, and he immediately removes it. "Nothing, just leave me alone for a bit," she says, aware of how harsh she sounds.

"Fine."

He looks so hurt, and she feels like the world's biggest bitch. The thundering swarm of butterflies in her stomach makes her feel sick, and she rubs a hand over it to try and get them to settle. It's been happening far too often, lately.

She spots movement in front of her, and glances up to see Fitz standing on the other side of her lab table, a look of realisation on his face, and she quickly removes her hand from her stomach.

He smiles softly at her, and it makes her want to cry.

"How about you take a break, and I'll bring you a nice brew and some painkillers. Maybe even a couple of choccy biscuits?" He raises his eyebrows at her, trying to get her to smile, but she can't.

She shakes her head. "Just please leave me alone," she whispers, the fight going out of her. Her eyes are stinging, and she can feel the tears that are threatening to fall, the rims dams that are about to burst. She looks up to the ceiling and sniffs them back.

"Oh, Jem. You're never this bad. Just relax for a bit and let me get you that tea, yeah?" Fitz walks round to her as he speaks, his voice soothing, and she knows exactly what he thinks is wrong.

"For goodness sake, it's not that!" she spits. Although, yes, it is her time of the month, but no, that isn't what's wrong. It's... Well, it's _him_. And he hasn't even done anything. "But thank you very much!"

"Then what is it?!" he shouts back, confused and upset, looking like she's just slapped him, and that snaps her out of it.

She stares at him for a second, crestfallen. "Oh, Fitz," she breathes. She feels disgusted with herself. How could she treat him like that when he's done nothing wrong, cause him unnecessary stress when he's still recovering? She doesn't need to be a scientist to work out why she's feeling the way she is: she's scared.

Jemma shakes her head, pulls her gloves off, and stares down at the cool steel of the table, her hands pressing into it as if it's the only thing holding her up. "I'm sorry."

"Jem..."

"You're right, it is that, and I didn't sleep very well last night, which would explain why I'm so irrational." Well, it wasn't a complete lie. "Tea sounds lovely, thank you." She smiles apologetically at him, and doesn't flinch when he puts his hand on top of hers, although her pulse rises rapidly.

"I'll get right on it. Go and sit down." He gently ushers her over to a chair. "Why are you here on your own, anyway? Where are the others?"

"Break. I wanted to keep working. You know what it's like, when you're focused on something."

"Yeah, but you really look like you need one."

As he leaves, she calls out to him. "Don't burn yourself! And please don't try and carry it on your own!"

"I'll get someone to help," he calls back, disappearing through the lab doors. "This is why I need a monkey!" his voice echoes back to her.

She laughs.

**DAY 16**

Fitz looks a little better today. He's had some movement back for the last few days, can turn his head and is sitting up, but the arm that isn't broken he cannot yet lift, although he can move his fingers a little. His eyes no longer look heavy with fear, and they know for certain that he knows what's going on, that he can hear them, because until today they'd been using a blink system - one for yes, two for no. Now he can nod and shake his head a little. He's tried speaking, but he had become so distressed at not being able to form words that Jemma immediately put a stop to it. But he can make sounds, and that's a good start.

Jemma's relieved beyond belief that he knows who she is, who his mum is, who the team are and who _he_ is and what he does. He doesn't know why he's in a med room, doesn't remember what happened, and Jemma's been vague with the details, not wanting to overwhelm him. His facial movements are limited, and if it weren't for his eyes he would look... Empty.

Right now he's crying, but he's unable to lift his hand to wipe the tears away, and Jemma has to fight back ones of her own in order to help him.

"Here," she says, "let me get those for you." She grabs a tissue from a box on the cabinet next to the bed, and gently dabs at his face. He's looking at her intently, and even though he can't speak, she can see the trust written on his face, and it overwhelms her, even though she already knows she has him complete trust, that he has done for years, just as he's had hers. She picks up his hand and holds it against her cheek. "I'm sorry I can't find a way to make this easier for you right now. But you will get better, I promise."

Fitz nods, his eyes drooping.

"Time to sleep." Jemma releases his hand and adjusts the bed so he's lying down. A few more tears slip from his eyes, so she curls up next to him, holding him to her, whispering soothing words of encouragement in his ear until he calms and falls asleep, which thankfully doesn't take long. Only then does she cry, her hand stroking through his curls and across his forehead. It hurts to see him like this, hurts that she can't do more for him. She knows he's embarrassed by how stuck he is, so for now visitation is strictly limited to her and his mother.

Helen comes in a while later, looking more alert after a nap and a shower. She stares at her sleeping son sadly, a soft smile tugging at her mouth.

"Maybe I shouldn't leave tomorrow. I don't want him to think I've abandoned him."

Jemma stands and walks over to her. "He won't." She places a comforting hand on her shoulder and gives it a light squeeze. "He agreed you should go back - he knows how important it is."

"I know. But as much as I feel awful leaving my students with a substitute teacher at such a vital time for them, I can't help but feel like leaving Leo would be much worse. He's my son."

"Yes, and he loves you. He knows you wouldn't leave for no good reason. You're a fantastic teacher, and he wouldn't want your students missing out on what you can give them."

"You're right," Helen sighs, placing an arm around Jemma's shoulders. "I just feel so helpless. He's so lucky to have you. Do you know what he said to me, when you first became friends?"

Jemma shakes her head. "No, what?" she asks, genuinely intrigued.

"Well, I'd been so worried about him. Being so far ahead of everyone else in school had isolated him - the other children didn't like it, and he was terribly shy. When he did try and make friends, they couldn't understand what he was talking about half the time, bless him. When he went to the Academy, I thought things would be different for him, so I was surprised when he'd call and tell me he was finding it difficult to settle in. And then, after he'd been there a few months, he rang me and said, "Mum, I think I'm going to like it here after all," and I said, "I told you you'd settle in and make friends," and he said, "Just one, but she's brilliant. Her name's Jemma Simmons, and I'm not quite sure why she wants to hang about with me, but we had tea and she was really excited when I told her about my ideas, and now we never partner with anyone else." And, being the nosy mother that I am, I asked, "Is she pretty?" and he said, "She's beautiful. And she's English. And she really likes Doctor Who.""

Jemma laughs, then sniffs and swipes at her face with the back of her hand.

"And from then on, he grew into this happy, confident young man. When I saw him that Christmas, I couldn't believe the change in him. And that was down to you - for the first time in his life, he'd found a place to belong, and he was thriving, and I was so proud. I mean, I always have been, of course, but he'd overcome something he'd struggled his whole life with, and I was so relieved. Because he's always been a good boy, and my heart would break with how sad he looked, sometimes, watching the other children walk to school together. There was one boy, Mikey, who he was friends with until they went to different schools when they were eleven, and Mikey fell in with the wrong crowd. Leo was devastated."

"He's never told me about him," Jemma says, her eyes resting on Fitz's sleeping face. That went some way to explain why he'd been so reluctant to believe that Ward could betray them the way he did - it was history repeating itself, only in a much more violent and terrifying way. Another piece of her heart broke for him.

"That doesn't surprise me - it really hurt him, and he never spoke about him again."

Jemma thinks back to the first day they met, and she smiles. "I think I'm the lucky one."

Helen squeezes her arm. "You both are. This world can be as cruel as it is beautiful, and this job you do can be so dangerous. I was terrified when he said you were both going into the field. I spoke to your mum, and she was just the same. But even though my worst nightmare has come true, I'm still bursting with pride, because despite how much it hurts seeing him like this, my baby is a hero. And so are you. Your whole team are heroes. Everything came crashing down, and none of you gave up. Any one of you could have run for your lives, gotten as far away as possible, but you didn't, because the world was depending on you. You just carried on fighting."

"Even if I'd wanted to run, I would never have left without Leo."

"I know, and he wouldn't have left without you."

There's a gentle knock at the door, and they both turn to see Coulson standing there, looking apologetic.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but Simmons, I need to steal you away for a while."

Jemma nods. "I'll be back later," she promises Helen, who looks at her with such affection it almost winds her.

She follows Coulson through to the lab. He still needs a scientist, and while she may not be an engineer, she knows enough about most of the tech they have to sort the basics on that side of things, especially as Fitz designed a lot of it, especially as she provided the biochem. Coulson needs all the help he can get, now, and she knows Fitz wouldn't want her to be wasting herself glued to his side every hour of the day - he'd want her to be helping to rebuild S.H.I.E.L.D., to be helping the world, and that's what she wants to be doing, too. It's just hard. But she has leave to visit Fitz whenever she wants to as long as Coulson doesn't need her for something pressing. The whole team have been so supportive - they're each other's family, a home away from home. And she's hoping and praying that Fitz can join them again sooner rather than later, and not be stuck here in the little med unit right on the other side of the base to where they're all working, for months on end. He's really missed, and she's told him so.

Tomorrow, she's going to try again with his speech. She has some flash cards, a few tricks up her sleeve, and she hopes more than anything that they'll work, no matter how long it takes, no matter how short their sessions may be. She won't give up on him, and she knows he has fight in him - she saw it when he moved his fingers against her hand earlier that day.

She won't let him down.

**DAY 77**

Jemma's never been in love before. She's had boyfriends, but none of her relationships have lasted very long. Her record was about six months. And the reason? Fitz. Her brilliant, annoying, charming, ridiculous best friend. They didn't appreciate how much time they spent together, how they were practically joined at the hip. A couple of them had tried to make friends with Fitz, had taken genuine interest in what they did together, but it would always end the same way, and she'd even been asked once why she and Fitz weren't a couple as clearly they were a good match, but she'd laughed it off and then pushed it to the back of her mind, along with all the other things she didn't like to think about.

The thing is, none of them have made her feel the way she's feeing now, and frankly, she's terrified. She also realises that she's probably loved him in _that_ way for a long time, but she's never let it surface out of fear. The difference, now, though, is that she knows he's in love with her, too, and while that does take some of the fear away, it doesn't quash it all.

Jemma sighs. Love is supposed to be scary, isn't it? It's supposed to be this great big adventure into the unknown. That's what makes it thrilling. Except, of course, she knows everything she needs to know about Fitz: his moods, his habits (bad and good), his likes and dislikes, his favourite food, how he takes his tea, how much he loves his mother... Everything. And he knows everything about _her_ , so there's nothing more to learn, no nasty surprises lurking in the shadows - what's left is cuddling, kissing, hand-holding... Sex. She blushes. She's a grown woman, and she's done all those things before, but this is _Fitz_. Not that that's a bad thing - on the contrary, it's a very, very good thing. A wonderful thing. He might not be built like the ops guys, might not be the strongest or the tallest, he might still be a bit baby-faced, but she's always found his sweet face boyishly handsome, always found his build a good fit for hers - he may be slim (and damn him for that, the amount he eats, it's just not fair), but all the heavy equipment he has to lug around has given him some definition, and he gives the best hugs, always sturdy and warm and safe...

"If you stir that tea for much longer you're going to wear a hole in the mug."

Jemma jumps, startled out of her thoughts. The room comes back into focus and she blinks, her lips pulling up into a smile. "Hello, Fitz."

He knits his eyebrows together a little, a look of confused amusement spreading across his features. "You've been doing that an awful lot, recently."

"Doing what?"

"Daydreaming. You look like a Disney princess waiting for her prince to come. You haven't been singing to wildlife, have you? No birds and mice in your room making your bed and sewing your clothes?"

She feels herself start to blush. Well, he's not completely inaccurate. Expect for the animals. "No," she laughs nervously, trying to draw attention away from the red cheeks she's almost certain she has. "I was just making a list of some the things we need to stock up on in the lab." She sips her tea, trying to maintain a casual air.

Fitz pops a couple of slices of bread into the toaster and then busies himself with getting a plate, a knife and the butter. "You daydream about lists?"

"I wasn't daydreaming, I was thinking."

"I know your thinking face, and that's not it. It's more like this..." He frowns a little and tilts his head, staring up towards the ceiling.

Jemma's eyes widen in protest. "I do not look like that!" she says, unable to keep the laugher out of her voice.

"Oh, of course, you're right - it's more like this." He purses his lips and presses a thoughtful finger to them.

"I hate you."

He gives her his most charming smile. "No, you don't."

Jemma's heart pounds against her chest. Why does he have to smile at her like that? Doesn't he know what it does to her? Well, no, he doesn't, but that's not the point. She huffs at him instead, and he laughs.

God, she's in trouble. She's twenty-seven years old, and yet she's a wreck. He's making her head spin, and those damn butterflies are back again. She watches as his toast pops up and he drops the slices onto his plate and starts to butter them. She stares at his arms, bare up to where the sleeves of his t-shirt start. He has nice arms. She swallows heavily. She wishes with all her might that she could say something, but the words won't come. And this isn't the time or place, anyway, not in the kitchen, with other agents milling about.

"So, I was thinking... Jemma?"

"Huh?"

He frowns at her. "Are you okay? You're flushed, and you look a little queasy. You're not coming down with something, are you?" Fitz closes the gap between them and places a hand against her forehead. "You do feel quite warm."

"Do I?" She curses herself for the shakiness in her voice. Honestly, girl, pull yourself together.

"Maybe you should take a sick day. Let _me_ look after _you_ for once."

"No, no, I'm fine, honestly. And besides, you're still on sick leave, so it wouldn't be fair to ask you to look after me."

"Jemma, I'm fine. Come on, let's get you back to bed and then I'll go and tell Coulson that you won't be in." He puts a hand to the small of her back in an effort to guide her out of the kitchen, but instead it just sends a shock through her, and she jumps away.

"You know what, you're right, I do feel a little sick. Excuse me..."

Jemma runs, and doesn't stop until she's safely in her room, ignoring Fitz's calls after her. Moments later, there's a knock at her door.

_"Jemma!"_

Jemma sits on the edge of her bed, hands on her knees, her legs jiggling up and down. This is ridiculous. She has two PhDs, has faced death head-on, has shot a superior officer with a night-night gun... How can she not talk to him about this? Or maybe she should just forget the talking and just grab him and kiss him. Or maybe, maybe she should just forget the whole thing...

_"Jemma, I'm coming in..."_

Oh crap, she didn't lock the door. She opens her mouth to tell him not to, but her voice has chosen that particular moment to leave her, so she just stares at him anxiously as he enters, her hands wringing in her lap.

"Why didn't you go to the bathroom if you thought you were going to be sick?" Fitz asks, shutting the door behind him.

That's a good question, but she panicked and didn't have time to think about the details, so she says nothing as he comes and sits down next to her.

"You're scaring me. You've been acting strange for weeks. Why won't you talk to me?"

She has to blink away a familiar prickling in her eyes as his concern washes over her. She hates that she's made him worry, and now he's sitting so close to her and she can feel the heat radiating off of him, and she wants nothing more than to bury her face in his chest and cling on tightly to him.

"I..." Jemma closes her eyes and takes a steadying breath. "I'm sorry. It's nothing, honestly. I've just been a bit under the weather."

Fitz smiles sadly at her. "You and I both know that's not true. Come on, Jem - you've never been good at lying, least of all to me. I can read you like a book."

She bites down on her lip and turns away from him, squeezing her eyes shut tightly. Why on Earth is she crying?

"Hey..." Fitz puts an arm around her shoulders and gives her a comforting squeeze, and that's it, she can't hold back the tears any longer. She breathes in shakily and then lets it out with a hiccuping sob, and then stands and turns to face him.

"No, don't," she pleads, holding a hand out in front on her to keep him where he is.

He stares up at her with wide eyes, his mouth slightly open, and he looks just as scared as she feels.

"I'm... You... You could have died!" she suddenly blurts. "And you did, for a bit, and..." she starts pacing, "... it was the most awful thing-"

"-Jemma..."

"No, don't say anything. Don't say anything otherwise I won't be able to finish. It felt like my heart had been ripped out, and it was the most painful thing I've ever experienced in my life. That wasn't your fault, obviously, but that's what it felt like. The thought that I might never see you again, hear your voice, see you smile... When you stopped breathing, I did, and when your heart stopped, I felt like I was dying, too. And I'm terrified, because I can't lose you, and if something happens, if something goes wrong, and it ruins us, and I lose you anyway, I couldn't bare that."

"Jemma, wha-"

"-And that's why I'm so scared, because the thought of not having you in my life is just unfathomable, and I love you, so much, but if something happens and we never speak to each other again..." Jemma swallows down a sob and takes a much needed deep breath before continuing to speak at a thousand miles an hour. "I just don't know what I'd do, because I can't not have you in my life, it's not an option, but as time went on, once you were out of danger and starting to recover, it gave me time to properly think about everything, and that was when I realised that I am, actually, in love with you, that you're my whole world, and I'd do anything to keep you in it, including being happy just being your best friend and nothing more, so then that risk isn't there-"

"-Jemma-"

"-and I know you feel the same about me, I know when we were in the pod that you were telling me that you love me, even though you didn't say it, because I know you were scared that I wouldn't say it back, but you didn't have to say it,-"

_"-Jemma-"_

"-you never have to, because I already know, and now I know I can see it every time you look at me, every time you smile at me. And that can be enough, can't it? Because I can't lose you. I can't, I can't, I c-mmm..."

She hadn't even seen him move, and now he's kissing her. Oh, god, he's _kissing_ her, and she can't breathe, and his mouth is so warm and soft and gentle, and everything she just said has turned to mush in her brain and her knees feel weak, so she grabs onto his shirt, just as he's pulling away from her.

"Sorry," Fitz says, smiling shyly at her, "but you were rambling." He pauses. "You love me?"

Jemma stares up at him for a moment, speechless, which is probably a good thing, considering, and then, with her hands still fisted in his shirt, she pulls him forward and crashes her mouth to his. Unbalanced, it takes a second for Fitz to respond, but when he does he cups her jawline, his fingers sliding into the hair at the nape of her neck, and a shiver runs through her at his touch. It might be quite a while since she's kissed someone, but she doesn't remember it ever feeling like _this_. If this was a movie, she thinks, there would be fireworks lighting up the sky above them in a blaze of colour, an orchestra at the point of crescendo. It's amazing, and she wants more, but then she comes back to herself with a horrible jolt just as she's about to deepen the kiss, and she pulls away from him, stray tears leaking from her eyes. She shakes her head. "We can't..."

Fitz just smiles at her, smiles like she's the most wonderful thing he's ever seen, and her stomach does back-flips. "I think it's a bit late for that," he says, his voice soft and quiet. "Jemma, I know you're scared, and I am, too, but look at us. Do you really think we could ruin this? Because we're not going to be any different to how we already are. We're still going to bicker and drive each other crazy, we're still going to laugh at jokes that no one else understands, we're still going to work alongside each other and create magic in the lab."

"Except it's science," Jemma smiles.

"Exactly. We'll always be together, we'll always be there for each other, to pick each other up after a hard day, to argue over which episode of Doctor Who to watch, to talk nonsense late into the night when we should be asleep. Those things won't change. It just means we can do things like this," he slides his arms around her waist and pulls her close, "and this," he rubs his nose softly against hers, "and this," he kisses her again, slowly and gently, and Jemma sighs against him, her arms winding around his neck. "I love you," he murmurs against her, "and that will never change, I promise." With that, he deepens the kiss, and her mind goes blank. All she can focus on is the feel of him, the pressure on her back as his hands slide up it, the heat of his mouth as his tongue moves against hers, the tingle of electricity that shoots up and down her spine, her blood fire and ice in her veins, her pulse soaring.

When they part, it is only out of necessity, the both of them breathless and flushed. Foreheads pressed together, Jemma stares into Fitz's eyes, the beautiful deep blue she loves so much almost completely obscured by the dilation of his pupils. "So what now?"

"Now..." Fitz sighs and runs a thumb across her lower lip, and she closes her eyes and tries not to shudder. "Now, you have to go to work."

"I could still take a sick day."

"Jemma Simmons, telling fibs to get the day off work?" he teases. "You and I both know that's not going to happen. You'd feel too guilty, and then you really would feel sick. Remember at the Academy, that time when we bunked off our last lecture of the day so we could go line up for the first showing of Star Trek, and you spent the whole time fretting?"

She laughs softly. "You're right. Except, I don't know how I'm going to think straight, now."

"You will. And then we can have a proper talk this evening."

Jemma nods. "All right. And, perhaps we don't tell anyone, just for now - I don't want a million questions when it's still brand new for us."

"Agreed." He pecks her sweetly on the lips. "I have to get ready for physio. You'll be okay, now?"

"Yes, I'll be fine. I _am_ fine. I'm..." She grins. "Happy. I'm happy."

Fitz grins back. "Me, too." Then he reluctantly removes himself from her arms, gives her hands a squeeze, and then moves towards the door. He pauses once he gets there, his expression now somber. "I'm sorry I put you through all that. If it had been you lying there, if I'd had to wait and wonder if you'd ever wake up, if I'd had to stand there and watch as you coded and then... I can't even..."

"Fitz, what happened wasn't your fault. You had absolutely no control over it."

"I know, but still."

Jemma wanders over to him and puts a hand to his face, running her thumb across his cheek. "Go on, before the both of us are late."

Then she kisses him one more time, just because she can, and realises, as she finishes getting ready, that she was wrong: she doesn't know everything about him at all. She didn't know how his mouth would feel on hers, how his fingertips would feel against her scalp as he slid them into her hair, how much his touch would electrify her. And while she's obviously seen Fitz with girlfriends, she hadn't personally known that romantic side of him. Now she's experiencing it for herself, and she lets out a bark of nervous laughter before clapping her hands over her mouth.

She wonders if, at some point today, she'll stop blushing like a schoolgirl.

\----

Later that evening, once she's off-duty, Jemma leaves the lab and goes in search of Fitz. It's been a funny sort of day. Fitz was right - she _could_ think, and she did her job as well as she did it any other day, but she couldn't stop smiling, couldn't stop the bubble of anticipation inside her. She was still scared, but she could see now that it was futile, because had she just gone on feeling the way she did, it would have slowly eaten away at her, and a new thought had taken over, one where she ended up pushing him away because she wouldn't speak to him about how she was feeling. Either way, both scenarios carried risks, just as everything in life did, and if she could spend that time being openly in love with her best friend, being happy and getting to discover this whole other side to him, then that was definitely better than the alternative.

She reaches his room and knocks. When there's no answer, she tries the door - quietly, in case he's fallen asleep - but it's locked. She worries her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment, thinking, then decides to check the common room in case he's eating dinner.

She's right, he is in there. Although he's not eating, he's caught up in a conversation with Skye, but as soon as she enters the room they catch each other's eye, and she smiles a little bashfully at him as he grins at her, and then Skye spots her and waves her over to where they're lounging on the sofa.

"Hey, we were just talking about pizza toppings - if you could invent any pizza topping, what would it be?"

Jemma frowns a little in thought. "Erm... Well, usual tomato base with cheese, but also chicken, diced roasted potatoes, sweet chilli sauce and sour cream."

"I told you," Fitz says to Skye, then he winks at Jemma when their friend isn't looking. She blushes.

"And his would be crispy duck with Hoisin sauce and cucumber."

Skye narrows her eyes at them. "You've had this discussion before, haven't you?"

Jemma shrugs. "Maybe. What was yours?"

"Fries, chopped steak, bacon, extra cheese, ketchup."

"That sounds like a heart attack."

"Yeah," Skye grins, "but wouldn't it be worth it?"

Fitz glances at Jemma meaningfully, and she clears her throat.

"Anyway, Fitz, it's time for your check-up."

"Now?" Skye frowns, confused considering the time of day.

"Yes, I've been very busy all day," Jemma says, with hardly any hint of nerves. She's proud of herself. "Come along, Fitz."

Fitz bites his lip, trying not to laugh at how prim she sounds. Luckily, Skye doesn't notice.

"I guess I'll see you guys later, then," she says, switching on the TV and putting her feet up on the coffee table.

"Yep," Fitz says, smiling at her as he rises to follow Jemma. "Have fun."

When they're in the hall, Fitz turns to her and says "My place or yours?" which makes her laugh, and he smiles as if it were supposed to. It breaks the tension a little, but after she replies "Yours," thinking it would be easier in case they end up talking for ages and he gets tired, they fall into silence, not wanting anyone who might pass by to hear them. Her heart's been pounding ever since before she walked into the common room, and even more so since she laid eyes on him again. She twists her fingers together, unable to stop fidgeting, and they exchange shy smiles as they walk. She wishes she could stop trembling, and hopes that he hasn't noticed, but the adrenalin rushing through her won't settle.

They arrive at Fitz's room, which is just down the hall from hers, and he lets them in. She goes to sit on the bed as he shuts the door, then changes her mind, suddenly thinking of the connotations of it, even though she's done it thousands of times before, so she stands awkwardly instead, still wringing her hands.

"Jemma-"

"-Have you had a good day? I mean, how was it? Have you been all right?"

Fitz comes to stand in front of her and takes hold of her hands. It's then that she realises that he's shaking, too.

"Let's sit down."

Jemma lets Fitz take her arm and pull her down to sitting with him. "Sorry, you know how I am when I'm nervous."

"It's okay. I'm nervous, too. In a good way, of course. I mean, I never knew you would feel the same."

She grabs his hand and studies how her fingers link so well with his. "I did, I _do_ , I just never knew that I did, if that makes sense?" She looks up at him, brown eyes searching blue.

He squeezes her hand. "Yes. It was the same for me. When you were sick, and you nearly... I couldn't comprehend you never being there again. And it hit me, like someone had come up and punched me in the stomach. I couldn't breathe. All I could think about was how much you meant to me, how much I loved you, really, truly loved you, that you were my whole world, and if you weren't there... And it frightened me, because I didn't think I'd ever stand a chance, I mean, look at me."

"Fitz..." Jemma whispers, soothingly. "You are everything. You're my hero."

"I'm so sorry," he says, guilty eyes boring into hers. "I don't regret giving my life for you, but I never wanted to make you feel what I did the day I thought I'd lost you, I promise. I just needed you to live."

"That's exactly how I felt."

"I know. And it wasn't just me, it was all of us. What you did was courageous, what I did was..."

"Also courageous."

"No," he shakes his head, looking down at their still joined hands, "it was selfish. I couldn't live without you, but I thought you'd be okay. I don't mean... Of course I knew you'd be devastated, I knew what I meant to you, even if I didn't think you were in love with me. You're my best friend - we're like Bert and Ernie."

Jemma smiles. "I'm Bert, and you're Ernie."

"Exactly. I just thought you'd be okay, eventually, and you'd meet someone, and they'd take care of you. Not that you can't look after yourself," Fitz quickly corrects, "Just... You know?"

"Oh, Fitz." Jemma throws her arms around his neck as a stray tear escapes down her cheek, and he clings back tightly. "But still, what you did _was_ courageous, even if you don't think so. I'm just sorry I didn't say anything - it all happened so quickly, and I was in shock. I'd never had to face my feelings before, I didn't know what to do. And then you were alive, and all I could concentrate on was helping you get better - it was all I wanted, above everything. When you started to get better, when you were well on your way to an exceptional recovery, it was then that I let myself think about everything else." She sniffs, and lifts her head from where it's been resting on his shoulder so she can look at him. "And what do you mean, look at you? It might be hard to believe, but actually, not all women want a man who looks like he lives at the gym."

"But you-"

Jemma puts a fingers to his lips. "That doesn't mean that that's what I really want. I had my head turned, but nothing would have come of it. It's like when people swoon over celebrities. Not that I'm saying you wouldn't turn heads, I mean you've had girlfriends, and you turned mine..." Fitz looks a little confused, and she doesn't blame him. She also realises that she still has her finger over his mouth. She removes it, and breathes deeply to steady herself. "What I mean is, I love you. I love every single bit of you. I wouldn't change any of it," she leans her forehead against his, "not one particle. You're beautiful, and just don't do that to me ever again, okay?" She takes a shaky breath, and it hitches in her throat.

Fitz takes her face in his hands and holds her gaze. "Jemma, I promise I will try my very best to never leave you, but even though I never, _ever_ want to hear you scream like that again," he shudders, his voice catching as hers just did, and she squeezes him tighter, "I can't promise that I won't give my life for you again if I need to, just like I'm sure you won't hesitate to jump out of a plane again if it means the rest of us live."

She's nods, acquiescing. "Then I promise to try my very best, too."

"And don't worry about anything else, either, because nothing could make me walk away from you. People get together and break up all the time, until they find the one, and you're _my_ one."

"You're my one, too. My person." Jemma leans in closer to him, her hands sliding up his back to grasp his shoulders, her nose brushing against his. "Fitz?" she breathes, her mouth a hair's breadth from his.

"Yeah?" he replies, low and a little breathless.

"Kiss me."

At some point, Jemma ends up on Fitz's lap, and then later, they end up in various positions on the bed, him over her, she over him, on their sides pulled tightly together, her legs sliding between his, their lips only ever parting for a breath of air before coming back together again, alternating between fast and passionate, and slow and deep. Jemma's never kissed anyone quite like this, or for this long, but it's like they're each other's oxygen, and she never wants to stop. Finally, though, she has to. Fitz is sleepy. He's still kissing her, but she can feel the effort it's taking him, how he's now a little uncoordinated, how his hands keep slipping from where he has one tangled in her hair and one on her back.

"Fitz," she murmurs against him, breathless.

"'M fine," he mumbles back, his mouth slipping a little from hers.

She smiles, and lets her lips linger on his one last time before pulling away and sitting up. He protests, and she laughs lightly. "You're tired."

He opens his mouth to speak, then decides against it, obviously knowing she'll never believe him.

"I'll come and see you in the morning before briefing." She can't keep the huge smile off of her face, especially when he's giving her a sleepy one of his own.

"I hope I don't wake up and find I've imagined the whole thing."

"Would you like me to pinch you, just in case?" Jemma teases him.

He curls in on himself a little. "No thank you, you're vicious."

"I am not!"

"Remember in our little apartment, when I'd gone drinking with some of the lads from work and came home drunk, and you were mad at me because I'd turned the place upside down before I left looking for my other shoe, and you came into my room, pinched me awake and demanded I tidy up right that second? Well, that really hurt."

"It was a mess! I thought we'd been burgled! You could have worn different shoes."

"I was going to tidy up in the morning. And never let it be said that I don't make an effort."

She huffs at him. "It was drinks with the boys."

"Don't you want me to look pretty for other people?" He can't help but start laughing as he says it.

Jemma rolls her eyes and tries to hide a smile, but it's futile.

"Come on, I'll walk you to the door."

She runs her fingers through his hair, and he leans into her touch, his eyes closing. "You don't have to."

"I want to." He sits up, then swings his legs over the edge of the bed and pushes himself to standing. He holds a hand out to Jemma, who grabs it and let's him pull her up, although she pushes up with her other hand to make it less effort for him.

Once up, he pulls her into his arms and captures her lips with his.

"This isn't leaving or sleeping," she mumbles against his mouth, amused, but she gets swept up in it, anyway, and it's a good minute or so before they part again. "You're going to cause me a lot of trouble, aren't you?" But it's not really a question.

His eyes sparkle at her, and he winks, and she really wishes he wouldn't keep doing that, because it does things to her, and now isn't the time to be thinking about things like that.

"You're blushing."

"Am I?" But she knows she is.

"Yes. And your hair looks incredible, by the way." He tucks a stray lock behind her ear, and Jemma reaches up to pat at her tangled ends.

"Oh, dear, that's not going to be pleasant."

"Leave it, it suits you. You look like an off-duty Helena Bonham Carter."

"Well, more fool you, because I happen to think she's pretty even on her "off-duty" days".

"I never said she wasn't. But she's not as beautiful as you."

Jemma blushes again, shakes her head and laughs. "Smooth. You charmer."

"It's true," he grins, then puts a hand to his mouth to stifle a yawn. She tugs on his hand and leads him over to the door. Her hand fits in his perfectly, feels like it's always belonged there, and even though she doesn't believe in fate, she thinks it probably has.

"Well, then," she says, hand still clasped in his.

Fitz brings their joined hands up to his lips and presses a soft kiss to hers. "Well, then."

She holds his gaze - his eyes are glinting like sapphires, and they draw her in, trance-like.

Oh, bloody hell.

She reaches for him, but he's already there, attacking her mouth and pressing her against the door. She grabs at him, kissing him messily, all tongues and teeth, and it's incredible, and she feels tingly and weak, and her skin is covered in goosebumps, and she wants more of him, much more, all of him... And that wakes her up. Not now.

"Fitz," she pants against him. "I have to go."

"Mmmhmm..."

She giggles. "Fitz!"

He sighs and releases her mouth reluctantly. "I know, I know, I need to sleep. Spoilsport," he smiles, before bumping his nose against hers. "I love you."

Jemma grins. "I love you, too."

She makes it into the hall this time, but leaves him with one last, lingering kiss, and holds onto his hand until she's moved too far away to hold on any longer, and it slips from his grasp.

Fitz gazes at her adoringly, his eyes a little unfocused. "Goodnight, Jem."

She smiles softly at him. "Goodnight, Fitz."

Once she's back in her own room, Jemma stares at her reflection in the little mirror on her wall. Her lips are red and swollen, her cheeks flushed, her hair is indeed a mess, and she can't help but grin stupidly at herself before turning away and getting ready for bed.

**DAY 4**

Fitz was finally transferred to the Playground a few hours ago, along with the med team Fury had assigned to him, and Jemma's dozing in the chair next to his bed, clutching his hand, when it happens. His body suddenly arches up, his limbs stiff, and the previously steady beeping of the machines goes crazy. Jemma jumps up with a cry, yelling for the med team, even though they were alerted the moment the alarm went. Fitz is having a seizure, and although she knows what to do, for a split second her mind goes blank and she's helpless, panic and fatigue reigning over her, and then just as she jumps into action, the team Fury had assigned to her best friend come in and move her out of the way.

"Jemma."

She turns her head a little, unable to take her eyes off of Fitz as he continues to jerk unnaturally, but doesn't really register who called out to her. Then there's a gentle hand on her arm, pulling her to the other side of the room.

"No, I need to help him!" She struggles to get away, but she's held firm.

"Jemma, you're in no fit state. Let them do their job."

Coulson. Jemma looks up at him with tears in her eyes, then her head whips back towards Fitz in panic as another alarm sounds and someone shouts "He's in v-tach!"

"Charging defibrillator..."

Jemma cries out and tries to get to him, but Coulson won't let her go.

"Clear!"

"Jemma, calm down, calm down..."

"And again... Clear!"

The heart monitor suddenly flatlines, letting out a loud, continuous beep, and Jemma sobs, her knees trembling, and it's a good job Coulson is holding her up or she'd be on the floor.

"Asystole!"

"Bag him!"

"Starting compressions..."

"Jemma, breathe!" Coulson demands. She's hyperventilating, and how can she breathe when Fitz isn't?

"No, no, no... FITZ!"

She feels someone else grab hold of her arm - Skye, she dimly registers. She doesn't understand what's going on - he'd been stable, and he _can't_ give up, because if he dies so will she, and she doesn't want to die, because what if their atoms are forced away from each other and they never meet again? And he's too young, he's far too young, and she's even praying to a god she doesn't believe in in a last ditch attempt for a miracle.

The team continues to work on him, and her own heart is in her mouth, and she feels dizzy and like she's going to vomit and she's so disorientated, but she's sobbing his name over and over again like a mantra. Her face is soaked with tears, her eyes a broken dam. "Fitz, Fitz! Please, please, _please_..." All she can do is watch as they continue CPR and give him epinephrine, and she knows they'll stop soon if he doesn't respond, and that thought sweeps her feet from under her, but Coulson just holds her tighter as she sags, and Skye's hand clutches at her own, as if she's trying to anchor her, but she just feels herself floating away. She whimpers. "Please don't leave me..."

Then the monitor finally picks up a rhythm, beeping slowly at first as his heart fights to pump blood around his body, then it quickens a little and starts to stabilise, and the med team give an audible sigh of relief.

Jemma has never known such relief, not even when she was saved from falling to her death from the Bus, and she weeps into Skye's shoulder, exhaustion flooding through her. Coulson moves and she's helped onto the sofa, a nurse coming over to check on her breathing because she's struggling more than she realised.

"Jemma, he's okay, he's still here," Skye says, tearfully, and Jemma feels a million miles away.

Finally, she starts to calm down. Her head is pounding, and her chest hurts, but Fitz is alive, and that's what she forces herself to focus on.

"Drink this." Coulson's guiding a paper cup filled with water into her shaking hands, helps her to sip from it without spilling it.

"Thank you," she chokes out, calmer, but the occasional sob still hiccuping from her.

After what feels like hours, the med team, satisfied, start to file out of the room. One of the doctors, a Dr. Scott, comes over to speak to them.

"He's stable. He's a fighter, but he's still critical. We'll continue to do everything we can for him, but he may continue to suffer further seizures, a common side-effect of brain trauma as you well know, Agent Simmons. We can't know just how much damage has been done until he wakes up, but..." Dr. Scott gives Jemma a sympathetic look, and she feels sick again. "You need to prepare yourselves for the fact that he might not. I'm very sorry."

Jemma can't process anything else. She just wants to go to Fitz, hold his hand and feel his pulse flutter against her finger tips. When she finally gets to him, she presses a kiss to his forehead, buries her face in the crook of his neck for a moment, breathing him in, then smooths his curls and sits and clutches his hand tightly in hers.

She doesn't see the anguished looks exchanged behind her, or even notices that Skye stays to keep an eye on her as Coulson leaves to inform the others as to what has happened.

All she sees is Fitz; bruised, his left arm in plaster, ventilator doing his breathing for him, but alive.

Alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The less said about the pizza conversation, the better, although the ones mentioned, apart from Skye's, do actually exist (and who knows, maybe Skye's does, somewhere). They're from a pizza restaurant in London called Fire & Stone. Jemma's one is divine, honestly.
> 
> I researched that last scene quite a bit, although even Google can be crap, sometimes. I hope it's okay. I was quite surprised to learn that the defibrillator isn't used to restart the heart, but to shock it back into normal rhythm. Stupid television. But, you know, internet, so it might very well turn out to be used for that as well.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is, the final chapter! Thank you to everyone who's read and reviewed - it really means a lot to get your feedback.
> 
> I'm not sure if the expression 'Jammy', is used in other countries, but here in the UK it means 'lucky', 'fluky', etc.
> 
> *Shameless self-promotion time* If you want to read more of my work, I've recently posted a new Fitzsimmons story called 'Hunted', so, if you wanted to mosey on over to that one afterwards, or at some point, I wouldn't mind a bit. Not one, single bit.
> 
> Enjoy!

**DAY 2**

They're all being so nice to her, so careful around her, but it only makes her feel worse. In the end, Jemma escapes to the only place where she can still feel him near, and that's his bunk on the Bus.

After excusing herself, she sneaks away from the Playground's common room and into the carrier, lowering the plane's ramp and hurrying inside. It's only been a few hours since she was brought here, but it's a few hours too long without him beside her, knowing that he's not stable enough to be moved, yet, and is miles away, all on his own in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people surrounding him. At least he's not awake to know it, although she'd trade everything she has for him to open his eyes.

Jemma walks solemnly through the Bus, trying not to think about what happened on it, trying to ignore the mess caused by Garratt and his people, by... She can't even say his name. But they'd trusted him, and now nothing would ever be the same.

And then she's there, standing outside her best friend's bunk. She stares at the door, motionless, suddenly afraid. What if his room has been ransacked, ruined by HYDRA, his things carelessly shoved aside and broken. The doors to all the bunks are closed, so she doesn't know what lies behind any of them.

She takes a deep breath, then moves forward and types in his door code. It beeps with acceptance, and she slides the door open, her senses instantly assaulted by everything Fitz. Nothing has been touched. Everything is in its place. His miniature TARDIS is still on the small shelf by the head of the bed, his photos still proudly displayed. She reaches out and pulls one of the photos from the wall where it's been tacked up. It's of the two of them, taken during a night out with the Sci-Ops team. They're both smiling brightly, and Jemma can remember the picture being taken with crystal-clear clarity, a warm night full of laughter and fun, when they'd danced to cheesy music and then wandered home as the sun was coming up because they had a day off, and it didn't matter that they'd had no sleep. He'd bought her pancakes for breakfast from a little diner near their apartment, and then they'd both slept the day away until the late afternoon, when they'd watched Vertigo and then ordered Chinese for dinner, back when they were safe and happy... Her breath hitches in her throat, and she sits down on the bed, tears spilling from her eyes and splashing down her cheeks. It hits her like a wave, like the ocean had when it smashed into their little box and knocked the wind out of them. She cries out in pain, throws the photo to the floor and then pummels her fists into his pillow. It's the first time she's cried properly since before he pressed that damn button, and she loses it, a scream tearing from her throat as she thumps and thumps...

This isn't fair. He doesn't deserve this. She wishes with all her might that they could go back to that time in the photo, back to when they didn't have to worry about their lives being in danger, back before she'd suggested that they go into the field. But she can't turn back time, can't change the past. Jemma lets out a wail of despair, and then the little bit of energy that she'd grabbed from thin air drains from her, like someone's pulled the plug, and she deflates like a punctured tire and curls in on herself, burying her face in his pillow. It still smells of him, the whole of the little room does, smells of his skin and his cologne and clean linen and _home_ , and she cries even harder, sobbing into his bedding.

She can't do this. It hurts too much. She just wants to see him and she can't, and it's more than she can bear.

Why did he have to do that? Didn't he know that she can't live without him, either? He must have - she'd told him. Hadn't he believed her? Did he think he meant less to her than she did to him? The notion was completely absurd. Had she done something to make him think that? Things had been chaos recently, with everything falling down around them, panic and betrayal, not knowing who to trust and who not to. But the one thing that was her constant was _him_. No matter what they went through, they always had each other. She hadn't even minded when he'd asked her to tell him that she wasn't HYDRA, because she knew that he didn't think for a second that she was, he'd just needed comfort, needed anchoring.

And then he'd saved her life, and in return, she'd saved his, but at what cost?

Jemma hiccups a sob, then her whole body jolts as a figure appears in the doorway and frightens the life out of her.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

"May?" Jemma sits up, then a wave of grief overwhelms her and she puts a hand over her mouth, trying to suppress her anguish.

May doesn't say anything, she just sits down beside her and wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling Jemma against her and letting her cry into her, the comfort unravelling her further and leaving her bare.

\----

"Jemma?"

It's only when May says her name that she realises that she's been quiet for a while, although she has no idea how much time has passed. She's also vaguely aware that it's the first time May has called her by her first name. She sits up a little, removing herself from the older agent's shoulder.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

Jemma looks down at her hands. "He saved my life. But how is it fair that he can't live without me but I have to live without him?"

"He's still with us."

"Is he? I don't even know if he'll ever wake up, and if he does, what-"

"Simmons."

She meets May's eyes, and finds her staring at her firmly, but there is sympathy in her gaze.

"I..." Jemma shakes her head. "I'm just confused. He said he couldn't live if I didn't, but he was prepared to make _me_ live without _him_. Why did he think that he didn't mean as much to me?"

"He doesn't think that. Believe me."

"Then why-"

"-If it had been the other way round, would you have done the same for him?"

"In a heartbeat," Jemma replies, without hesitation.

May gives her a small smile. "Then you know why."

"I... Oh." Now she gets it.

"Fitz might have had selfish reasons for doing it, but it doesn't make what he did any less brave," May continues. "To sacrifice yourself for another person... Choosing to do that isn't like choosing what to have for breakfast. It's ending your _life_. Fitz wouldn't have wanted to die - he would have been terrified. And you did the same - you dragged him up through ninty feet of ocean despite the fact that he did what he did to give you a chance, despite the fact that it put your life at even more risk. So don't let what he did eat away at you, otherwise you'll never be able to move on. You gave him back the chance to live, and now you're going to have to be strong for him, because he needs you, just as much as you need him."

Jemma sniffs, and swipes at her cheeks. "Thank you," she says, gratefully, her voice still shaky and hoarse from crying.

"Don't thank me. Just come back inside, wash your face, and go to bed. I know right now the only place you want to be is by his side, and it's going to be hard, but if you're going to get through waiting for him to be transferred here, then you need to focus."

She nods. "Yes, you're right." She looks around. "I just want to grab a few things before I go back."

May stands and gives Jemma's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Take your time." She goes to leave, then stoops down and picks something up from the floor. "When was this taken?" she asks, holding the photo that Jemma had flung to the floor in a fit of grief.

"A couple of years ago."

"It's lovely," May smiles, handing it to her.

"We didn't go home until the sun started to come up, and then he bought me pancakes," Jemma says, and then she stares down at her hands. She doesn't know why she just told her that. She's not really had many 'normal' conversations with May - maybe now they'll have more. She'd like that.

"Sounds nice." May moves through the door, then glances back at her. "There's food - I'll leave some in the kitchen for you."

Jemma offers her a watery smile. "Thanks." She watches her leave, then takes a deep breath. She grabs a couple of things from Fitz's bunk - the photo, one of his cardigans (just because she's going to focus, it doesn't mean she can't have a piece of comfort) - and then goes into hers to check it over and gather some of her belongings, including a photo album that contains all of her best memories. Thankfully, her bunk is also unscathed.

A new sense of purpose instilled in her, Jemma leaves the Bus and starts thinking of all the ways she's going to help her best friend recover when he wakes up. Because she refuses to believe that he won't.

**DAY 58**

"Now, just because we're discharging you today, it doesn't mean that you're cleared for work."

"Of course not."

"It'll be a while, yet - you've still got a way to go. However, I'm happy for you to leave this unit and for Agent Simmons to take over your care, although I will need to see you once a week for the time being."

Fitz holds his hand out, "Thank you, Dr. Scott, for everything," and manages to give the doctor a handshake.

Dr. Scott smiles. "You're very welcome." He turns towards Jemma and nods at her. "Agent Simmons."

"Thank you," she smiles, as he turns to walk away and leave them to it. She glances at Fitz, who's grinning at her excitedly. His cast has just been removed, replaced with a compression bandage, and next to his bed is a pair of crutches, and he can't wait to get going. She helps him up, letting him get balanced on his crutches. "Okay? Be careful with that arm - it's still weak, so you're going to have to overcompensate on your other side for a while".

Fitz gives her a pointed look, one that seems to say "Do I look stupid?", but his eyes are soft. "I'll be fine, Jemma. All I want to do is get out of here and into my own room, with my own things, and with a bed that isn't on wheels and doesn't have a mattress covered in vinyl. And I want a doughnut."

Jemma laughs.

"That's better. Although, I really do want one."

"I'll see what I can find."

"A jam one. Covered in sugar. And not the powered stuff."

She picks up a bag which contains some of Fitz's clothes and his laptop. "Anything else, your Royal Highness?"

Fitz pretends to think. "Chips. Proper chip shop chips, not those skinny little fries. With lots of salt and vinegar. And a pickled egg."

"Now you're pushing it. And I think, unfortunately, that's going to have to wait until we're next in good old Blighty."

"Yeah, I suppose," he sighs. "I am rather hungry, though."

Jemma raises her eyebrows at him. "Really? I'd never have guessed."

Fitz grins at her, then looks determinedly forward. "Come on - I'll race you."

\----

Suffice to say, there was no racing, and by the time Jemma gets Fitz to his room, he's exhausted.  
Still, he looks happy, and this is also demonstrated by the fact that as soon as he reaches his bed, he drops down onto it, spread-eagled on his front, and buries his face into a pillow. He sighs blissfully.

"Oh, god, that's good."

She smiles fondly at him, and puts his bag down at the foot of the bed. "How about I go and get you something to eat, and you rest up a bit."

Fitz gives her a thumbs up from his face-down position.

Jemma rolls her eyes good-naturedly at the back of his head. "Don't forget to take your meds while I'm gone."

He makes some kind of noise, which she assumes means that he won't, and leaves his room.

\----

"Okay," Jemma says, opening the door with one hand and balancing a tray in the other. "Because it's your first day back, and you wanted them so badly, I cut up some potatoes and made you some chips, nice and thick. I can't guarantee that they'll taste the same as the ones from the chippy, but I even wrapped them in paper for you. Although, don't think I'm going to spoil you like this every day." She places the tray down on top of the bedside table. "I also found lemonade."

Fitz is staring at her, and his face is such an odd mix of emotions, she can't tell if he's happy or upset.

"I can't believe you did that. You're the best."

Happy, then.

"I know. Now, eat up before they go cold."

"I will, but first, close your eyes," he says, suddenly looking a little awkward.

She frowns. "What?"

"Please? Just, close your eyes and give me two secs."

"Okay..." She does as asked, feeling the bed shift as he moves, and then turns her head slightly towards a rustling sound. "What are you doing?"

"Hang on..."

The bed dips near her again.

"All right, go on."

Jemma opens her eyes, and they instantly widen as they land on what Fitz is holding in front of her. She gasps a little, her breath catching in her throat. "For me?"

"No, I just thought I'd surprise you with a gift for someone else," he replies with amusement.

In his hands is a beautiful bunch of pink, yellow and orange Gerbera daisies. She takes them from him, her smile threatening to split her face. "How did you...?"

"Skye came and asked me this morning if I wanted anything for when I got out, so I told her, and she and Billy went and... Well. Skye dropped them off while you were cooking. I wanted to say thank you, again, for everything you've done. For saving my life. For not giving up on me." He looks at her shyly. "You deserve so much more."

Jemma can feel her eyes welling up. "They're my favourite."

Fitz smiles. "I know."

"I..." No, it's no good. She's done for. She inhales shakily, then puts the flowers down carefully and throws her arms around Fitz's neck and presses a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he says into her ear, sounding a little flustered.

"You didn't have to."

"I wanted to. They weren't meant to make you cry, though."

Jemma chokes out a laugh. "Happy tears."

Fitz pulls back from the hug, and then stares at her in a way that makes Jemma blush. It's only for a second, and then he's turning away, but she's frozen, unsure of what just happened. He doesn't seem to notice.

"I suppose I'd better eat before they get cold," he says, gesturing to the plate. "I can't believe you wrapped them in paper."

She blinks and comes back to herself. "Well, you know, if anything's worth doing, it's worth doing properly." She reaches for the plate at the same time as he does, not wanting him to drop it, and he smiles gratefully at her as she places it on his lap.

Fitz unwraps the paper gleefully, and inhales deeply. He pops a chip into his mouth, humming a sound of appreciation as it assaults his taste buds. "These are good. And just the right ratio of salt and vinegar."

Jemma beams at the compliment.

"Here," he says, moving the plate towards her. She takes one and bites into it.

"Oh, they _are_ good. You know what the best thing is, though?" she says, swallowing. "It's eating them open-wrapped on the beach."

Fitz nods in agreement. "Yep. And we will again, one day. Have another."

"It's _your_ dinner."

"But I bet _you_ haven't eaten, yet. Come on," he encourages. "And then for afters, we have jam doughnuts."

What? "How did-"

"-Skye, again."

"You two are very sneaky. And we should probably have something a little healthier than chips and doughnuts."

"Simmons, you'll be all right for one night. You're not going to wake up tomorrow a stone heavier, I promise," Fitz assures, his tone teasing.

She gives him a sidelong look. "Yes, I know that, thank you." She nicks another chip, and they sit in companionable silence until the paper is empty, save for grease marks and tiny grains of salt.

Jemma stands and picks up her flowers. "I'm going to go and put these in some water before they wilt. Will you be all right?"

"Ooh, I don't know. Me versus doughnuts? Don't think I stand a chance - they're right jammy bastards."

She's not going to laugh at that. Except, she does. "Lame."

"You laughed."

"Only out of pity."

"Yeah, right," Fitz says, with a gleam in his eyes and a mouth that's curved upwards.

Jemma snorts another laugh at the look on his face, then walks to the door. "I'll be two minutes, don't get into any _sticky_ situations."

Fitz groans. "That was worse!"

She giggles as she closes the door behind her. She thought that was rather good.

**DAY 23**

"Jem..."

Jemma lifts her head up from the book she's reading, and turns her attention to her now awake best friend. He looks like he's struggling with something, his face a frown, and she puts the book down the side of her chair and leans forward, her hand coming to rest on his arm.

"What's wrong? Are you in pain?"

He shakes his head.

"Bad dream?"

"...No."

He shifts uncomfortably, and Jemma adjusts the bed and helps him to sit up.

"Better?"

He nods. "Ward... The... _Bus_."

Jemma's eyes widen. She's been waiting for this. "Do you remember?"

Fitz closes his eyes for a second. "Th... Therm... Law...," he struggles.

"It's okay, it's okay." She rubs his arm. "First law of thermodynamics."

He opens his eyes back up and nods at her. He doesn't try and say anything else, and Jemma doesn't push, partly because he's groggy and exhausted after their earlier speech therapy session, and partly because she doesn't want to cause him any embarrassment over a certain confession, if he indeed remembers that much. She's also not yet sure what she'll say to him if he does, and she doesn't want him to suffer any setbacks in his recovery if things get awkward.

"Je..."

She smiles softly at him. "Yeah?"

He moves his hand a little, and she instantly knows what he wants. She slides hers into his weak grasp and squeezes gently. He mutters something, but she can't make out what it is, and she doesn't ask him to repeat it, because his eyes are closing again and he's slipping back into sleep. She runs her thumb across the back of his hand, his skin warm and smooth beneath her touch, until his breathing evens out and she's sure he's properly asleep. Then she carefully adjusts his bed again before settling back in her chair and picking her book back up. She has a little more time before she needs to be back, and it's quieter here. Plus, she can keep an eye on him for just that little bit longer.

Half an hour later, when Jemma's just getting ready to leave, Fitz starts to mumble, and she leans over him, her eyes searching his face. He's not awake, and doesn't seem distressed, so she leaves him be. She's never heard him talk in his sleep before, but she's not concerned.

However, as she leaves, he says something that makes her heart thud against her chest.

"Yer... Mor... Tha..."

Jemma spins round, but Fitz is still asleep, although he's now a little restless, his head turning from side to side and his legs shifting under the covers. She waits for a moment, holding her breath, and then he sighs and settles back down.

Exhaling slowly, Jemma dims the lights and quietly slips out. She has a lot to think about.

**DAY 83**

Jemma's picking out her breakfast from the continental selection laid before her when Skye finds her. The hacker takes one look at her, and her eyes widen at the same time as her mouth falls open.

"You had sex!" Skye gasps, slapping Jemma over-excitedly on the arm.

"Shhhh! Keep your voice down!" Jemma exclaims, shoving her friend's hand away. She can feel her face going red. "And there's no way you can tell that."

"Er, yeah, I can - you're wearing the classic 'I got laid last night' face, and so is lover-boy over there." She points to where Fitz is toasting himself some bread.

"Oh, my _god_..."

"What? It's nothing to be embarrassed about."

"I'm not, I just don't want the whole world knowing about our personal life!" She hisses. She supposes she shouldn't be surprised - they'd all found out about hers and Fitz's new relationship status the day after they'd gotten together. They'd remained completely inconspicuous, or so they'd thought, but by the end of the day, everyone had guessed. Coulson had called them into his office, and they'd shuffled along nervously, worried he was going to split them up, or tell them that they had to choose between S.H.I.E.L.D. and their relationship, only to be told it was about damn time, and as long as it didn't interfere with their work or affect the team when they were on duty, then he didn't have a problem with it. To say they'd been relieved was an understatement.

"Aww, Jemma. So, how was it?"

"Skye!"

"It was good, right?" She waggles her eyebrows. "Of course it was, like I said, you're wearing the 'I had sex and it was _good_ ' face," she whispers. Then she inhales sharply with sudden realisation. "Is that why Fitz wanted to come along, even though he's not back at work yet, so you two could take advantage of the hotel room?"

"Morning, Skye," Fitz says brightly from behind her, and she jumps violently.

"Jesus, don't sneak up on me like that!"

"Sorry," he says, looking anything but, and picks up a piece of toast from the plate he's holding.

"S'all right. I'll let you off, considering..."

" _Skye_."

Fitz gives her a confused look from around his toast.

"It's nothing," Jemma assures him with a smile.

He doesn't look convinced.

"Well, I'll leave you two crazy kids to it." Skye waltzes off, but not before winking at Fitz, and he pauses rather comically around another bite of toast, his eyes wide.

Jemma just stares at him.

Fitz removes the toast from his mouth. "You told her?!"

"No! She guessed, and you know how bad I am at lying."

He sighs. "Yeah. But how did she _know_?"

"She said I was wearing a 'I had sex and it was _good_ ' face."

Fitz gives her a self-satisfied grin. "Did she, now?"

Jemma slaps him lightly on his chest. "Stop it." She can feel herself blushing. "Come on, let's take this lot up to Coulson's room for the debrief before we're late and they start asking questions."

"All right, but give me a kiss, first."

"Fitz..."

"What? Everyone's upstairs, and you're not worried about the tourists, are you?" He pouts at her. "Please?"

Jemma bites her lip to stop herself from smiling, and fails miserably. "Fine." She leans up and presses her mouth to his, feeling him smile against her, and she almost laughs at how stupidly happy she is. The brush of his lips against hers sends a tingle through her, and she has to pull away before her thoughts stray to places that aren't appropriate when standing in the middle of a hotel breakfast room.

"Let's go. And if you behave, maybe later..." She turns and walks off, leaving her unfinished sentence hanging in the air. It's a beat before he follows her, and she grins to herself smugly.

**DAY 1**

Jemma isn't claustrophobic, but she's very glad that she's out of decompression and able to sit up. It's been hours, and even though she was out for a lot of it, it hadn't been comfortable, and the glass so close to her face was oppressive. She'd felt a little like Snow White, except a prince hadn't come along to kiss her awake...

She squeezes her eyes shut. She can't process this, can't process anything that's happened. She's exhausted, and her best friend is in a room that she's not in, with people looking after him that don't include her. He could be dying, and she wouldn't know, not until it was too late.

There's a knock at the door, and Jemma looks up to see someone she vaguely recognises from when they were first brought aboard the chopper. Director Fury has left to see Coulson, and she's never felt so lonely.

She looks up at the stranger, apprehensive, her heart in her throat until the man standing there gives her a small smile.

"Would you like to see him?"

Jemma blinks. What a ridiculous question. But she gives him a small smile back and nods, because this man has no idea what Fitz is to her, no idea of their history, and she's not one to be rude.

She follows him along a small corridor and through a set of automatic doors.

Her breath catches and her stomach churns.

He's not even breathing on his own, for god's sake, and she doesn't know why that surprises her, considering what he went through, but it does. Ventilator. Heart monitor. Blood-oxygen. Two IVs. And him, pale, lifeless...

Jemma doesn't cry, doesn't make a sound. She hasn't got the energy. She looks for something to sit on. There's a chair in the corner of the room, and she drags it over and drops down into it, her hand instantly seeking his. It's cool to the touch as her fingers wrap around it, and it's not him. Fitz is warm and bright and alive, he's not... _this_.

Except, he is.

Fitz doesn't get sick. He's had the sniffles a few times, but never anything worse. _She_ does. He's held her hair back for her as she's vomited, taken her temperature, made her soup...

"Agent Simmons?"

Jemma scrubs a hand across her tired eyes and looks up at the agent who has just brought her here.

"It's time to go."

She frowns. "But I've only just got here," she says, incredulously.

"You've been in here an hour."

Well, that's just absurd. Has she really?

"Agent Fitz will be moved as soon as the doctors are confident that he's stable enough."

'Agent' seems such an empty word, now. They're... Well, what are they? Vigilantes?

"Can I just have a minute?"

He nods, and Jemma turns back to Fitz. She smiles sadly at him. "I have to go," she says, smoothing a hand across his forehead and hair, mindful of his stitches. "But I'll see you really soon. Behave yourself. Don't cause the nurses any trouble - don't try and charm them into finding you pretzels, or letting you take apart the heart monitor just so you can fiddle and try and make it wireless or something. Just... Don't be long, okay? Because I'll miss you." Jemma bends and presses a kiss to his cheek, then lets her eyes roam over his face one more time before reluctantly leaving the room, unable to look back one last time, because she knows she'll never leave if she does.

She feels like she's stuck, and everything is whizzing past her. She doesn't even register that she's been led to another helicopter until they're taking off. She stares blankly out of the window, until they're over the ocean, and then she's pinning herself back in her seat with her eyes closed.

If Fitz doesn't wake up, then she never wants to see the ocean ever again.

\----

Jemma looks at the concerned faces in front of her, all eager to hear how Fitz is doing. But she doesn't know what to say. He's ill, very ill, and she has no idea if he's going to be okay, even though she's been telling herself over and over that he will be.

In the end, there's only one thing she can say, the only thing that she's absolutely certain of in this whole mess.

"He's alive."


End file.
